


Strung Out

by AgtSpooky



Category: Strike Back
Genre: Angst, Drug Use, Dubious Consent, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Undercover Missions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-07-11 09:40:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 50,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7042858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgtSpooky/pseuds/AgtSpooky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Partners in the field and out, Michael and Damien had been through hell together for the last four years and made it through standing side by side. But when their latest undercover op to bring down an arms dealer plunges them into a world of drugs, sex and violence, Damien must literally get in bed with the enemy in order to complete the mission. And Michael is forced to watch, helpless, as his partner is broken into pieces. Will love be enough to put them both back together or will this be their final mission?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. CHAPTER ONE

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: Contains scenes of drug use, graphic sex and realistic situations

The first thing Michael Stonebridge noticed was the heat. He hadn't been on the tiny balcony for more than three minutes and his green t-shirt was already damp with sweat and sticking to his chest and back. What he wouldn't give to be at home in his native cool and wet London instead of Kuala Lumpur in the middle of summer. And at the Ritz instead of this crappy hotel in the middle of Chinatown.

 

Michael brushed a bead of sweat from his brow and leaned cautiously against the sagging railing to better overlook his surroundings. It was an assault to all five of his senses. Everywhere he looked was a riot of color - the bright clothing of the tourists and locals, the fabric awnings over the shops and the flags flying above the stalls that lined every inch of the crowded streets. He drew in a breath of air that was filled with the smells of a complex variety of cuisines from a wide cross-section of cultures being sold from the food vendors. Even up here on the fourth floor, it wasn't difficult for Michael to hear the sounds of dozens of conversations, the honking of car horns or the shouts of the vendors trying to entice both locals and tourists alike to purchase their wares.

 

Behind him, Michael heard his hotel room door open and close, but he didn’t turn from his observations. He’d know the footfalls of his partner anywhere. A moment later Damien Scott stepped up beside him, a lit cigarette held between his fingers. Michael turned to look at his partner as Damien leaned on the balcony railing.

 

“You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy,” Damien proclaimed, waving his hand out in front of him.

 

Michael huffed out a breath with a grin. “Well if anyone would know it’d be you, mate. How long did you live here, anyway?”

 

A cloud passed over Damien’s eyes. “Too fucking long.” Then he turned and gave Michael a cocky smile. “But hey, it was also where we started our beautiful friendship.”

 

Michael laughed. “Yes, a fist fight is always the way to start a relationship.” Michael tipped his head to the side. “Speaking of which, is it going to be a problem for you being back here, with the way you left?”

 

Damien shook his head and took a drag of his cigarette. “Nah,” he replied, blowing out a stream of smoke. ”Ong and his fight club are long gone. And besides, I’ll be running in wildly different circles this time anyway. That’s why I’m here, actually.” He hooked his thumb over his shoulder. “Locke wants us in the crib for briefing in ten.”

 

Michael nodded and blew out a breath. Time to get to work.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

The Section 20 crib, located on the second floor of an abandoned warehouse in Chinatown, four blocks from the hotel, was a hive of activity, more so than usual when Damien and Michael entered the vast space. With the scope of this mission, more personnel than just the four core members of Bravo Team were going to be needed. In one area there were several computer stations set up, manned by British Intelligence specialists. Across from them, a squad of fatigue-clad soldiers ran hand-to-hand combat drills, tossing one another down onto gray mats. Bunks for the squad huddled in the far corner, along with a makeshift mess. The armory loomed along the far wall with racks of rifles and handguns and boxes of grenades – both smoke and explosive – and an entire crate of ammunition. Section 20, like a Boy Scout troop on steroids, always arrived prepared.

 

Michael and Damien walked past several electric fans that were scattered around, their blades spinning furiously, but barely moving the humid air. Both of them snagged bottles of cold water from an ice-filled bucket as they approached the briefing table in the middle of the crib.

 

The other members of Bravo Team were already assembled – Sergeant Julia Richmond, DEA Special Agent Kim Martinez and their commanding officer, Lieutenant Colonel Philip Locke.

 

“Gentlemen,” Locke acknowledged them as Michael and Damien took their seats. “Let’s get started.” He pointed a wireless remote at a wide video screen, and a photo of an Asian man in his early 60’s appeared. “Xiao-Chen Seng,” Locke began. “Local Chinese Triad leader for the past twenty years, dealing in extortion, protection money, gambling, drugs and money laundering. Until nine months ago.” The photo changed to one of an obviously dead Xiao-Chen Seng. “The circumstances of his death were, shall we say…mysterious.” The photo changed again, this time to a younger Asian man in his late 30’s. His cold eyes and hard expression made Michael think of a viper and the hair on the back of his neck stood up. This man was dangerous.

 

“With Xiao-Chen dead, control passed to his only son, Keng-Jing Seng, who used to be his father’s enforcer,” Locke explained. “And he was ruthless at his job. There’s more than one body in the morgue attributed to him.”

 

Damien snorted. “Sounds like junior there got tired of waiting for his turn and knocked off dear old dad.”

 

“Thank you for that keen deduction, Scott,” Locke replied dryly.

 

Michael tried to ineffectually hide a smirk behind his hand and Damien gave him the finger.

 

“Kenji, as he goes by,” Locke continued, “is much more ambitious than his father, not content with drugs and gambling.” The photo on the screen changed to crates full of weapons. “He’s gotten himself into high-level arms dealing. He’s the middle man, selling to the Moro Islamic Liberation Front in the southern Philippines.” Another photo, this time of bodies lying in the street of a village. “His weapons have been linked to a number of terror attacks, killing countless innocent civilians, including British and American citizens. Rumor has it he’s about ready to sell something much more dangerous than AK-47’s.” Locke put down the remote and addressed the team. “We need to find _his_ supplier and shut them both down.”

 

Locke turned his attention to Michael and Damien. “That’s where you two come in. There are two things that Kenji Seng loves – drugs and men. Western men in particular. He owns the top gay club in Chinatown – Club Almari.”

 

Michael nodded, familiar with the name. He and Damien had walked past the club after leaving the hotel, on their way to the crib.

 

Locke’s pause was heavy in the air, making Michael uncomfortable.

 

“You’ll both be going undercover.”

 

As Locke’s words sunk in, the members of Bravo Team gave each other uneasy sideways glances. Michael knew without a doubt what everyone was thinking, but they all remained silent. Locke was the one to give voice to their shared thought.

 

“I will not let what happened to Baxter happen to either of you,” he said forcefully to Damien and Michael.

 

“Yes, boss,” they chorused and nodded, not doubting the words of their commanding officer.

 

“What’s the play?” Damien inquired.

 

“Michael, you’ll need to get yourself hired as security at the club,” Locke started off. “We don’t know where Kenji is conducting his business deals – either at his house or at the club. So we need an inside man.”

 

“Will do,” Michael replied. He indicated the soldiers behind him. “Can I borrow a couple of them? I’ve got an idea.”

 

“As many as you need,” Locke answered then turned to Damien.

 

“Kenji likes to have a…companion with him. One that lives with him.”

 

Damien sat back and crossed his arms over his chest. “You mean a boy-toy.”

 

“For lack of a better term, yes. We need you to replace his current one." Locke cocked his head at him. "Will this be a problem for you?"

 

Damien shrugged and shook his head. "No, sir."

 

Locke nodded. "Good. We need a man in the house, in case he’s doing his dealings there. We’ll need you to get into his computer, pull off as much as you can. Gather as much intel on Kenji as possible.”

 

“Sir, my Chinese is a bit…lacking,” Damien interjected.

 

“Shouldn’t be a problem,” Locke answered. “Kenji loves everything Western, which is why he shortened his name, speaks English fluently and requires everyone around him to as well.”

 

Locke turned to regard them both. “You can’t go in wired. No comms, no phones. Kenji does regular security sweeps at his house and the club for listening devices. However, we will put GPS tracking devices in both of your watches. We’re not letting either of you out of our sight.”

 

Locke blew out a breath. “I’m not going to sugar coat this for you. This is dangerous work. Especially for you, Scott. But Seng needs to be stopped. And this is our best bet.”

 

Damien and Michael exchanged glances, years of unspoken communication passing between them. They answered as one.   
  
“Roger that.”

 

Locke’s mouth tightened and he nodded. “Richmond is in the process of setting up fake identities for you both. She’ll drop the paperwork off at your hotel tonight. Study it carefully. Leave your watches with Martinez.” He slid a thick file folder across the table. “Everything we have on Kenji Seng. Take the rest of the day. Read up. You both go in tomorrow night. Dismissed.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Later that evening Michael sat at the rickety table in his hotel room, pouring over the files on Kenji Seng and his new fake identity when the door opened and Damien walked in. He closed the door behind him and leaned back against it.

 

Michael looked over at him and indicated the files. “You ready for this?”

 

Damien straightened up and pulled his dark blue t-shirt off, exposing his defined chest, dusted with dark hair, and his three tattoos. He took a step forward and dropped the shirt to the floor.

 

“What? You think I can’t reel Kenji in?” he said smugly.

 

Instantly angry with Damien’s flippant tone, Michael stood abruptly, the chair scraping back against the wood floor.

 

“This isn’t about your sexual prowess,” Michael growled. He stripped off his own shirt then and advanced on his partner like a cat stalking its prey. “Did you read the file? Kenji likes his men pliant. _He_ does the seducing. _He’s_ the one in charge.”

 

Michael put his hand on Damien’s chest and pushed him back against the door. Michael was barely two inches taller than his partner, but he was broader and more muscular than Damien’s stockier build and at that moment he used all of that to his advantage. He drew himself up to his full height and loomed over Damien, planting one hand hard against the door next to Damien’s head. He saw the uncertainty flare in Damien’s blue eyes at his actions. He leaned in close, his voice a deep rumble.

 

“Do you even know what the word ‘submissive’ means?”

 

Then his mouth was on Damien’s in a hard, bruising kiss.

 

Damien froze for a split second before opening his mouth and slanting it across Michael’s, their tongues doing furious battle. Damien reached out to take hold of Michael’s hips but Michael instead took both of Damien’s wrists in his hands and pinned Damien’s arms over his head. Michael saw defiance flash in his partner’s blue eyes. Damien immediately tried to pull out of Michael’s grip but Michael didn’t relent, pressing his body fully against his partner, holding him still. Another failed attempt to move his arms and then Damien sagged, submitting to Michael.

 

Michael broke the kiss with a satisfied expression. “That’s better,” he said smugly, then his words took on an edge. “Now take off your clothes.”

 

He watched as Damien’s face flushed at his command, but his partner kept quiet and reached for his belt buckle as Michael stepped back. Damien’s jeans, briefs, socks, and shoes pooled at his feet until he was naked before Michael.

 

Michael nodded in approval at what he saw. “Now get on the bed. On your knees,”

 

He could see Damien fighting with himself to say something but ultimately lowered his eyes and moved over to the bed without a word. He climbed onto the mattress on his hands and knees, fingers curled around the headboard, then looked over his shoulder at Michael.

 

Michael felt his cock throb suddenly within the confines of his pants and his mouth went dry at the picture Damien presented – open, exposed, waiting. He thought about touching all of that naked skin, and his hands clenched into fists.

 

He removed his own clothes, taking his hardening cock in his hand and stroking it sharply, twice, watching as Damien’s eyes darkened. He moved then, disappearing quickly into the bathroom to grab the small bottle marked Lotion in between the shampoo and conditioner that even rundown hotels like this provided to the tourists.

 

He squirted the lotion onto his hand, coating his fingers as he walked over to the bed. He tossed the bottle onto the mattress and climbed up behind Damien, on his knees. He wasted no time, as Kenji Seng wouldn’t either, left hand on Damien’s hip, the slick fingers of his right hand seeking out Damien’s entrance, then pushing past the puckered muscle.

 

Damien grunted at the intrusion and dropped his head, fingers flexing on the headboard. Michael stretched him quickly, but carefully, more consideration than he knew Seng would give, but he would never hurt Damien deliberately.

 

He withdrew his fingers and coated his hard cock with the lotion before guiding it to Damien’s slick entrance. He pushed firmly and steadily past the muscle, Damien’s body seeming to draw him in until his groin was flush with Damien’s ass. Damien sucked in a sharp breath as Michael filled him so completely and Michael couldn’t help the groan that escaped his lips as Damien’s body surrounded him with tight heat.

 

Michael gripped Damien’s waist, his fingers flexing on the smooth skin and shifted his hips backward, sliding nearly all the way out of Damien before pushing back in in one smooth motion. He set up a quick rhythm, his hips snapping, pulling Damien’s body back to meet his thrusts over and over. The sound of flesh hitting flesh, the creaking of the bed and sharp, panting breaths filled the room.

 

Damien released one of his hands from the headboard and dropped it down between his legs but Michael intercepted it before he could wrap it around his cock. He took Damien’s wrist and slapped his hand back down on the headboard. Kenji Seng wasn’t going to care about his partner’s pleasure, only his own.

 

“Don’t move,” Michael ground out. “And don’t come.”

 

Damien squeezed his eyes closed and dropped his head. “Shit…” he swore, voice strained, fingernails digging into the headboard.

 

Michael continued to fuck Damien, his head spinning, dizzy with the feeling of power and control he had over his partner. He knew deep down it was wrong and this wasn’t who he was, but Christ, tell that to his cock, which was ready to explode.

 

“Michael…”

 

The harsh, fucked-out whisper of his name falling from Damien’s lips pushed Michael over the edge. With a sharp cry he let go, pushing into Damien one more time, holding tight to his hips as his cock pulsed over and over, filling Damien with slick, wet heat.

 

Damien cried out, too, a mixture of pleasure and pain and Michael knew it was from denying himself his own release, still obeying Michael. Even though he knew Seng would ignore Damien’s own needs, he wasn’t that cruel. He reached down between Damien’s legs and wrapped his hand around his partner’s rock hard cock, the head wet with precome. Damien tried to shift away from the stimulation but Michael bent over and put his mouth next to Damien’s ear.

 

“It’s okay,” he breathed, stroking firmly. “Let go…”

 

And with a noise akin to a sob, Damien did, his cock pulsing in Michael’s grip, his release painting the headboard. Michael stroked him through his climax until Damien sagged, his knees giving out and he tumbled them both down onto the bed in a tangle of limbs, Michael’s softening cock slipping from Damien’s body.

 

Michael rolled Damien over to face him, realization setting in of what he’d done, how he’d treated his partner. And it shook him deeply.

 

Damien’s blue eyes were wide, but there was no recrimination in them, instead regarding Michael with something akin to awe and…gratitude?

 

Michael lay a hand on the side of Damien’s face, his voice shaky. “Damien, I’m –“

 

“No.” Damien cut him off. “Don’t apologize. You’re only looking out for me. And I needed that. Needed to get in that mindset. And best it comes from you first and not Seng. Thanks, Mikey,” he said sincerely, then he gave Michael a cocky grin. “You’re damn hot when you’re in control like that. I’m impressed. Didn’t know you had it in you.”

 

Michael shook his head and laughed and shoved at Damien’s shoulder. “You fucking wanker.”

 

“Tell me you didn’t enjoy that,” Damien challenged him with a smile.

 

“Maybe just a little,” Michael admitted and Damien chuckled, pleased. “But not something I want to make a habit of,” he continued. “It felt odd, all one-sided like that.” He threaded his fingers through Damien’s. “I much prefer our usual…mutual pleasuring.”

 

“Well give me a few minutes and we can get to that mutual pleasuring,” Damien smirked.

 

Michael rolled his eyes. “You’re impossible.” Then he turned serious. “Do you think Locke knows about us?”

 

Damien blew out a breath. “We’ve been together, what? Five months? I know we’ve been careful, but this is Locke we’re talking about. I’m sure he’s figured it out.”

 

“Think that’s why we got this assignment?” Michael asked. “Because we have… _expertise_ in this area?” His hand swept out to indicate their naked bodies.

 

“I almost hope he doesn’t know,” Damien answered. “Because putting us through this, knowing our relationship…I can’t believe he’s that big of a bastard.”

 

“This is Locke we’re talking about,” Michael reminded him. “The mission always comes first. Either way, this isn’t going to be easy. On either of us.”

 

It made Michael’s skin crawl, just thinking of Kenji Seng putting his hands on Damien. But more than that, it was the undercover aspect in general. It was, hands down, the most dangerous work they could do. He would rather face down dozens of terrorists in a firefight, bullets flying or a hand-to-hand fight with a deadly blade than undertake an undercover assignment.

 

A gun battle lasted an hour and there was no deception involved. You just pulled the trigger. But an undercover job could last days, weeks, months. All the while pretending to be someone you’re not, constantly on edge. And the smallest mistake, a slip-up from either you or any of your teammates could mean instant death.

 

Unbidden, an image of Baxter’s videotaped execution flashed in Michael’s mind and he closed his eyes as Baxter’s face was replaced by Damien’s, a split second before being shot in the head.

 

"Hey."

 

Damien’s quiet voice had Michael opening his eyes and he saw the same fears being reflected back at him in the depths of Damien’s own eyes.

 

Damien hooked a hand around the back of Michael’s neck. “C’mere,” he whispered and Michael went willingly into Damien’s embrace.

 

The kiss was slow and languid. Michael let himself fall into it with a sigh as Damien’s hand caressed his back, trailing across his bare skin, up and down. On the next pass his hand slipped lower, to the swell of Michael’s ass, fingers flexing. Michael hummed encouragingly into the kiss and Damien pulled their lower bodies flush. Damien rocked his hips, pushing his newly hardening cock against Michael’s for long moments before his fingers searched out Michael’s entrance. When they pressed against the small muscle Michael broke the kiss with an intake of breath and a nod.

 

“Turn over,” Damien whispered.

 

Michael did so, rolling so that his back was to his partner. He heard Damien searching in the rumpled bed sheets and then the cap on the lotion unscrewing. A moment later Damien bent Michael’s top leg at the knee and pushing it slightly up on the mattress. Michael felt Damien’s slick fingers at his entrance then, rubbing the puckered muscle until Michael pushed back against his fingers, eager for more. Damien obliged, slipping one finger inside and Michael closed his eyes with a sigh.

 

A second finger joined the first shortly afterward, pushing in and out, until Michael started shifting his hips, pressing back, trying to get them deeper, wanting more. Damien withdrew at Michael’s unspoken request and then Michael could feel the blunt head of Damien’s cock pushing ever so slowly inside him.

 

Michael groaned in pleasure as his partner filled him so completely, his hands bunching up the sheets, feeling his cock throb as his body stretched around Damien’s rock hard erection. He expected Damien to start thrusting then, but instead he rolled Michael’s hips back so that their bodies were completely spooned together, molded perfectly against one another, Damien’s cock slipping in that final inch.

 

Damien’s mouth was on the side of Michael’s neck then, kissing behind his ear, and Michael shivered at the sensation. He felt Damien’s hand skim across his smooth chest, his thumb rubbing against a flat nipple until it hardened into a pebble then pinched it gently and Michael sucked in a sharp breath at the stimulation. Damien’s hand wandered lower then, across Michael’s well-defined abs, past his navel, until his fingers curled around Michael’s uncut cock. Michael couldn’t help the groan that escaped when Damien began stroking him, easing the foreskin up and down, and he arched back against his partner’s body. Michael felt himself release a burst of precome as Damien’s thumb pressed against the underside of the head of his cock and he contracted his internal muscles around Damien’s erection. He felt it throb deep inside him and felt Damien’s groan rumble against his back and in his ear.

 

Damien released Michael’s cock then and rolled Michael’s hips forward again as he stayed still, slipping nearly all the way out of Michael’s body. Michael’s fingers flexed again in the bed sheets, waiting for that first powerful thrust, but it never came. Instead, Damien’s hips started a slow roll, pushing in deep, then withdrawing inch by inch, again and again.

 

Their lovemaking was always enthusiastic, to say the least, and as a result never lasted very long. It never bothered Michael because it felt damn good. So this slow and unhurried pace was new. And Michael found he liked it. He could really _feel_ Damien inside him, and it was a heady experience. The desire to come was there, but further below the surface than normal and Michael found he liked the feeling of a slow build up instead of a fast explosion. He knew when he did come it would be all the more powerful for the slow ascension to the top of the cliff.

 

He had no idea how much time passed, losing himself to the new sensations Damien was creating inside him, his heart beating quickly, his breaths long and deep. He wanted it to last as long as possible. So when Damien then slipped completely out of his body, Michael reached back desperately for him.

 

“No…” he panted, trying to pull Damien toward him again.

 

Damien caught his hand and tugged. “It’s okay…c’mere,” he breathed.

 

Michael rolled over as Damien pushed the pillows up against the headboard and sat up against them. His blue eyes were dark with desire and he was breathing as deep as Michael was. He was holding his cock in one hand, stroking slowly.

 

“Ride me,” he ground out, voice rough.

 

“Fuck,” Michael breathed, more aroused than he’d ever been. Because this was new, too. They never had time for more than one position normally.

 

Michael straddled Damien’s hips eagerly, and a moment later Damien’s thick cock slipped back inside him as he lowered himself down onto it. His head fell back in exquisite pleasure at the sensation of Damien so deep inside him again. He lifted his head when he felt Damien’s hands settle on his hips and saw the same raw arousal written all over his partner’s face.

 

He rested his hands on Damien’s shoulders and rose up on his knees, letting Damien’s cock slide nearly all the way out of his body before sinking back down in one smooth motion, pulling twin groans from them. Michael rose up again quickly, but Damien’s hands tightened on his hips.

 

“Slow, Mike…”

 

Michael nodded and took a breath before lowering himself back down, trying to match Damien’s earlier pace. He felt his orgasm build again as he rode Damien’s cock, a wave of pleasure steadily growing inside him. His slow movements were agonizing torture of the best kind. He pushed down a little harder, trying to get Damien’s cock deeper, feeling it press again and again against his prostate.

 

When Michael's thighs started to burn he stopped his up and down movement and settled on Damien’s lap. He ground his hips back and forth, still craving the pressure of Damien's cock pushing on that spot deep inside him, his own trapped between their bodies, rubbing against Damien’s bare skin. Damien’s arms came around him and he tugged Michael’s head down, kissing him with more passion than he’d ever felt from his partner.

 

After tonight it might be weeks before they were together again. And if the op went horribly wrong…this might be the last memory they had of one another. Michael felt his heart seize up in his chest at the thought and he kissed Damien harder, pouring all of his emotions into it. And with the way Damien responded, clutching Michael tighter, he knew the same thoughts and emotions coursed through his partner as well.

 

Michael was lightheaded when the kiss ended, his heart pounding in his chest. He could feel Damien's beating the same staccato rhythm. It had never been this intense between them and it shook him. He could see it in Damien's blue eyes, too, blown wide, and it took his breath away.

 

His partner moved then and Michael found himself on his back, his legs wrapped around Damien's waist, Damien’s cock pushing into Michael hard and fast now. He gripped Damien's upper arms, his head arching back against the bed as he felt the wave of his orgasm rush up his spine. There was no stopping it now and Michael didn't want to. He had never ached so badly for release.

 

"Look at me, Michael…look at me…"

 

And Michael did, catching the exact moment on Damien’s face when the ecstasy of climax flooded through his body. Damien’s shout of completion was deep and long, his hips still thrusting as he filled Michael with his release.

 

The sensation of Damien coming inside him, his cock pulsing again and again, was Michael’s undoing. His orgasm crashed over him like a tidal wave, more powerful than he’d ever felt. His cock surged, painting his stomach with his release and he cried out with the sheer intensity of it.

 

Damien lowered himself down onto Michael and Michael held him tightly, both of them trembling as their orgasms subsided. Damien’s voice was a shaky whisper next to his ear.

 

“I love you.”

 

Michael felt his heart skip a beat. It wasn’t the first time Damien had said those words to him. And Damien wasn’t the type of man to toss around a word like ‘love’ easily or lightly. Michael squeezed his eyes shut and buried his face in Damien’s shoulder.

 

“Damien, I…” But the last two words lodged in his throat and refused to be spoken.

 

Everyone he’d ever told he’d loved had died and left him alone. His parents, his grandmother, Kerry. He never expected to get another chance at happiness and he was going to hold onto it desperately with both hands and not let go. He knew it was completely irrational, but he didn’t care. As long as he didn’t say it Damien would stay safe.

 

Damien lifted himself up slightly to look at Michael and he could see the understanding in Damien’s blue eyes.

 

“It’s okay.” Damien kissed him softly. “I know.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Dawn was just breaking when Michael felt Damien stir and he opened his eyes. He hadn't been sleeping, though. Neither of them had been, really, their minds too occupied with the upcoming mission to rest. They'd instead spent the last hours in each other's arms, making the most of the time they had left together.

 

Michael felt Damien's hand lightly trail down the back of his neck and across his shoulder and he lifted his head from where it had been resting on his partner's chest.

 

"Hey," Damien said quietly with a small smile.

 

"Hey," Michael echoed then sat up and kissed Damien for a long moment.

 

When they moved apart Damien looked down and unhooked his paracord bracelet from around his wrist, which he then fastened around Michael's.

 

"Hang onto this for me, will you?" Damien asked, trying for a light tone, but failing.

 

Michael shook his head, refusing to acknowledge the implication of Damien's action. He knew how much that bracelet meant to his partner. He'd received it the day he was accepted into Delta Force all those years ago and he had worn it every single day since. If he was giving it to Michael he was afraid there was a chance he wasn't coming back from this mission.

 

"Damien. No." Michael reached for his wrist to unhook the bracelet but Damien covered his hand.

 

"Mike. Please." Damien's voice was rough. "Just…do this for me. Keep part of me with you." Then he swallowed and forced a smile. "Besides, it's just temporary, so don't get attached to it. I'll be asking for it back soon."

 

Michael turned his hand over and linked their fingers together. "I'm going to bloody well hold you to that."

 

The sun peeked over the horizon then, signaling the start to a new day.

 

Michael released a long breath and asked Damien a familiar question. "Are you ready for this?"

 

Damien squeezed Michael's hand. "I am now."


	2. CHAPTER TWO

## CHAPTER TWO

 

Michael pushed open the doors at Club Almari around 11:00 pm that night, steeling himself for the start of the mission. He could feel the pounding beat of the music in his chest the moment he stepped inside, and he had to blink his eyes against the flashing multi-colored lights beaming down from the ceiling, illuminating a sea of moving bodies on the dance floor. The sharp smell of marijuana in the air assaulted his nose as he moved further inside.

 

The club was crowded. It was mainly filled with young Asian men ranging in age from mid-twenties to late-thirties. Though as he moved around the outskirts of the crowd, Michael did spy a few foreigners, either American or British. The patrons were in various states of dress, from t-shirts and jeans to bare chests and skin tight spandex shorts. Michael fit in somewhere in the middle; he was dressed in a tight white tank top, showing off his impressive physique, and khaki cargo pants.

 

The majority of the crowd was dancing. Bodies were pressed tightly together, hands on hips and shoulders or cupping a firm ass. The dance floor took up the majority of the sizable space. A DJ sat at one end of the stage amid a wall of speakers. Four, four-foot high platforms surrounded the dance floor, upon which a professional dancer performed, wearing nothing but a thong. Michael watched as young men approached, running their hands up the dancer’s legs and tucking ringgit notes into the strap on his thong. A security guard kept close watch, making sure the patrons behaved themselves.

 

Looking around, Michael saw other men lining the dance floor, some talking, heads close together, drinks in their hands. Others had taken it to the next level, tongues down one another’s throats, hands up under shirts or down the backs of jeans. There were several curtained-off alcoves along the wall, from which Michael could hear the unmistakable sounds of sex as he passed by. He spied several drug deals taking place, no doubt under the strict control of Kenji Seng. Alcohol, drugs, and sex. This was apparently a full-service club.

 

Looking up to the second floor, he could see men sitting at tables lining the balcony. They were talking, drinking, or surveying the undulating bodies below. And then there was the large private room, with walls comprised of two-way mirrors. This was Seng’s room. It allowed him to observe his domain without being seen. There was a beefy security guard standing right outside the door, signaling his target was inside.

 

Michael stopped his circuit at the long, wide bar, manned by four bartenders, where the noise level was a bit lower. He ordered a beer, took a long drink of the ice cold alcohol and turned and rested his back against the bar. His eyes scanned the crowd again, this time looking for three men in particular. Damien had left the hotel an hour before Michael, giving him plenty of time to work the crowd and hopefully be spotted by Seng. The two Section 20 soldiers – Christopher Cho and Paul Wang - arrived a half hour later.

 

Michael spotted Cho and Wang first. The two men were standing against a wall, talking. The three made brief eye contact then let their gazes slide away. Michael turned his head to the right, looking for his partner when he heard a familiar voice say, “Whiskey. Straight up.”

 

Damien stood a few feet down from him, dressed in black jeans and a lightweight blue button down shirt that matched the color of his eyes. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up and the top few buttons were undone. He was slightly sweaty, evidence that he had been on the dance floor, mingling with the crowd, making himself known. He held what looked like a half-smoked joint between his fingers.

 

Their eyes met and Michael remembered the last thing Damien had said to him, right before he walked out the door an hour ago.

 

_“No matter what goes on between me and Seng, it’s you I’ll be thinking of.”_

 

He saw the promise repeated again on Damien’s face and Michael ached to reach out and touch him one more time. But instead he gripped his beer bottle tighter and let their unspoken communication do the talking for him.

 

_Watch your back_

Damien gave him a nearly imperceptible nod.

 

_Copy that_

 

Then he turned away to chat up the young man next to him, all smiles and charm.

 

Michael looked away, tipping his head back for another drink and instantly straightened up when he saw the door to Kenji Seng’s private room open and the man himself step out.

 

Kenji’s long, jet black hair was pulled back into a ponytail. He was dressed in black leather pants and a white tank top similar to Michael’s, showing off the various tattoos that adorned his arms. He was smiling as he looked out over the crowd, but Michael could still see the viper below the surface and it made his blood run cold.

 

Kenji turned and made his way to the stairs and Michael signaled Wang and Cho with his eyes.

 

Showtime.

 

Michael hoped that being one of the few foreigners in the club he would attract Kenji’s attention and curiosity. And he wasn’t wrong. He watched as Kenji made his way through the crowd, acknowledging several people along the way before he reached the bar, coming to a stop beside Michael. Kenji signaled the bartender and a shot of whiskey appeared before him. He downed it quickly then turned to Michael, looking him up and down. Michael felt his skin crawl at the blatant appraisal.

 

“American or British?” Kenji asked in perfect English.

 

Michael put on a smile. “British.”

 

Kenji nodded. “I’m Kenji Seng. Welcome to my club. I don’t believe I’ve seen you in here before. On holiday? Business?”

 

Michael shook his head. “Neither. I’ve been living here the last few months.”

 

Kenji’s eyebrows rose. “Oh? What – “ he started to say when someone slammed into him, knocking him forward against Michael.

 

Michael reached out and grabbed Seng before he could hit the floor, looking over the other man's shoulder, expecting to see his teammates. Only it wasn't Wang and Cho he saw.

 

It was a fight taking place among three patrons of the club and one of the security guards. Wild punches were being thrown, along with a beer bottle as the men grappled with one another. Michael watched the guard wade into the melee and attempt to pull the combatants apart but was promptly turned on by all three men. A crowd quickly formed in a circle, yelling and cheering as the guard was brought down to his knees.

 

"Oi!" Michael yelled, moving past Seng. "Knock it off!" he told the men, one of which promptly gave him the finger in reply and turned back to the guard.

 

Quickly deciding that an actual fight would show off his skills much more than his plan of a choreographed one with Wang and Cho could ever do, Michael jumped into the brawl, coming to the security guard's aid. The three young men were no match for Michael's special forces training but they put up a good effort. One went down with a punch to the nose from Michael's fist, bone crunching and blood spraying down the man's shirt. Michael swept the legs out from the second man then delivered a solid punch to his gut that laid the man out, gasping for breath. He pulled the third from the guard's back and after ducking a wild swing, delivered an uppercut that sent the man sprawling.

 

The crowd was clearly taken aback by this foreigner and went nearly silent as Michael helped the guard to his feet, before erupting into even wilder yelling and applause, several men clapping Michael on his back and shoulder as he made his way back to Seng, who looked at his security guard with disgust. He snapped his fingers and the man hurried over, wiping at a trickle of blood seeping from the corner of his mouth.

 

"Mr. Seng –“ the man started but Kenji cut him off with a slash of his hand.

 

"You're a disgrace," Kenji spat. "Get out, you're fired." He looked away from the man and over at Michael, who had just downed his shot of whiskey. "And you. You're hired. Though I don't even know your name."

 

Michael nearly choked on the alcohol. This was going better than he'd hoped. "I'm…what?" he laughed. "Name's Michael Kane." He stuck out his hand and he and Seng shook. "I'm not looking for a job, but thank you," he lied, not wanting to sound too eager.

 

Kenji crossed his arms over his chest. "I can guarantee you that whatever you're doing now and whatever you're being paid, working for me will be more than worth your while." He reached out and squeezed Michael's bicep. "I obviously need a man with your…qualifications. I'm not used to people saying no to me, Michael." Kenji smiled smoothly at him but Michael could see the viper, ready to strike at anyone who did refuse him anything.

 

Michael bowed his head. “Cheers. I appreciate the opportunity.”

 

Kenji smiled and inclined his head as well, then signaled for another shot of whiskey, which he downed quickly. “You start tomorrow night,” he told Michael, then walked back into the crowd.

 

Out of the corner of his eye, Michael saw Damien push off from the bar, ready to make his own move.

 

Michael touched the bracelet on his right wrist as he watched him go. _Good luck, mate. Be careful._

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Damien smiled inwardly as he watched Michael’s actual fight. He sold it so much better than he ever could’ve with the proposed staged one between him and Wang and Cho.

 

He dropped his joint to the floor and ground it out with his boot as he watched his partner and Kenji shake hands. Michael was in. His part was done. It was Damien’s turn now. With one last glance at Michael, he moved off into the crowd, on an intercept path to Kenji.

 

Damien timed it perfectly, walking backward and “accidentally” bumping into Kenji at the edge of the dance floor, near one of the curtained-off alcoves.

 

Kenji turned sharply, a furious expression on his face.

 

“Oh man, I am so sorry!” Damien apologized. “Totally my fault. Please don’t tell me I spilled your drink on you. Do you have a drink? Can I get you one?” he said quickly.

 

Kenji’s irritation was replaced by curiosity as Damien spoke. “You’re American?”

 

Damien laughed. “Yep. Born and bred.”

 

“I don’t think I’ve seen you here before. This is my club.”

 

Damien faked surprise, raising his eyebrows. “Oh, now I’m _really_ sorry I banged into you!” He held out his hand. “Damien Weller.”

 

Kenji shook his hand. “Kenji Seng.”

 

“Nice to meet you,” Damien said. “And no, first time. I’ve only been in Kuala Lumpur for about a week.”

 

“What brings you to my city?” Kenji inquired.

 

Damien threw his hands out to the side. “I’m traveling the world! I recently came into an inheritance,” he explained. “My dear old dad, asshole that he was to me, had a successful IT company that he ran into the ground because he wouldn’t listen to me. I had vision and he didn’t. Lucky for me the bastard died a few months ago and because I’m his only surviving family I inherited everything. I couldn’t salvage the company so I sold it off. I’ll start up my own soon.” Damien smiled wide. “But in the meantime I’m using his money to party, which I know will have him rolling in his grave. And I was told _this_ was the spot to be in Chinatown for a good time.”

 

Damien regarded Kenji casually, though inside his mind was churning. Was his story enough to reel Kenji in? American, single, no ties at home so no one would miss him. Daddy issues. Had ambition. Had the smell of marijuana on him. Were there enough similarities between Kenji and Damien’s fake life to get him interested?

 

Kenji looked Damien up and down and a slow smile crossed his face. He stepped closer and Damien forced himself not to back away.

 

“What you were told is true,” Kenji said. “So you like to party?”

 

“Fuck yeah,” Damien answered, just as the sounds of sex in the alcove reached a crescendo and he glanced that way.

 

Kenji put a hand on Damien’s chest and he looked back to see Kenji with a wicked grin on his face. He tipped his head toward the alcove. “Is that what you came here for?”

 

Damien leaned in, forcing desire and interest in his voice. “I wouldn’t say no…”

 

Kenji laughed. “I like you, Damien.” He ran his hand down Damien’s chest. “Why don’t you come upstairs with me? I have a private room.”

 

“Then I say lead the way.”

 

Damien swallowed deeply as Kenji turned and walked toward the stairs, feeling his stomach roll at the thought of Kenji touching him. Then he forced the thought away. He was a soldier and this was his mission. What were a few nights of unwanted sex if it saved dozens of lives?

 

Damien followed Kenji up the stairs to the second floor, past several men standing at the railing, looking down over the crowd. The beefy security guard standing outside Kenji’s private room opened the door for them as they approached, then closed it behind them.

 

As Damien stepped inside a line from a nursery rhyme sprang into his mind. _Welcome to my parlor said the spider to the fly_

The room was spacious, with two long, wide leather couches and two leather chairs with an oval shaped, low glass-topped table in the middle of the furniture. There was a small bar area in the back and a table with a selection of food. Four speakers were mounted near the ceiling, one in each corner of the room, piping in the music from the club, but at a lower decibel level. A flat screen TV was on one wall, currently showing gay porn.

 

There were several other men in the room and Damien regarded them one by one. The first man was another burly security guard, standing in the back of the room. He gave Damien the once-over, assessing any threat potential. Damien gazed back innocently and then looked away, toward the two men on his right, both of who were Asian. The first man was sporting short black hair that stood up in spikes, a pair of sunglasses pushed up on his head. His skin tight black t-shirt clung to his chest, as his black jeans did to his legs. He was currently sprawled on one of the couches, his hands on the hips of one of the professional dancers that was in the process of giving him a very enthusiastic lap dance.

 

Damien looked away from the performance toward one of the leather chairs, beside which a Caucasian man kneeled. He was probably four years younger than Damien, but looked much older. His face was drawn, dark circles under his eyes, which were dull, but with pinprick pupils. His shoulder length brown hair was unkempt and he was too thin for a man his age and apparent height. He kept fidgeting, as if his muscles twitched and wouldn’t allow him to sit still. There was no doubt in Damien’s mind this was the current boy-toy, the one he needed to replace. And he looked to be in rough shape, strung out. When he looked into the man’s eyes he was taken aback by the fierce anger he saw there. If looks could kill, Damien would be dead on the floor.

 

The man on the couch let out a laugh, drawing Damien’s attention.

 

“I see you went fishing, Kenji!” he called out over the music, looking Damien up and down appreciatively. “Nice catch!”

 

Kenji wrapped an arm around Damien’s chest from behind. “Jealous, Huan?”

 

Huan shook his head. “Nah, you keep your white bread,” he winked, turning his attention back to the dancer as the young man unzipped Huan’s pants.

 

Kenji laughed and led Damien over to the other couch, planting a hand on his chest and pushing him down onto the leather. Out of the corner of his eye, Damien saw the current boy-toy suddenly spring to his feet and take a step toward him and Kenji.

 

Kenji whipped his head to the side and jabbed his finger toward the younger man. “Did I give you permission to stand, Jason?” he said angrily.

 

Jason immediately dropped his head. “No…I’m sorry…I just…” he rambled, voice unsteady.

 

“Well, why don’t you make yourself useful since you’re already on your feet?” Kenji commanded, voice hard. “Get my box.” He turned to Damien with a slick smile. “Damien here wants to party.”

 

Damien blinked and put a smile on his own face, while his brain processed the chameleon Kenji Seng was – charming one minute, then revealing his true cruel nature the next. Damien would be walking a deadly tightrope around this unstable, dangerous man.

 

Jason hurried toward the back of the room, crouching down behind the bar for a brief moment then standing back up with a black case the size of a shoebox in his hands. He brought it quickly over to Kenji, setting it down on the glass table, casting Damien another hard stare.

 

Kenji sat down next to Damien and flipped open the lid on the box, revealing a spoon, a lighter, razor blades and several small bags of white powder, separated into two groups. There was also another smaller black case that was zippered closed along with several condoms.

 

Damien heard Jason suck in a quick breath when the drugs were revealed, his hands clenching and unclenching. This poor guy was in need of a fix, bad. And Damien realized this was how Kenji kept his “companions” so submissive and pliant – he got them addicted. Damien had a flash of himself as the new boy-toy, looking and acting like Jason, and he knew he had to wrap up this mission as quickly as possible before he ended up in the same condition.

 

Jason swallowed hard and reached out, his hand shaking, but Kenji pulled the box out of his reach.

 

“No. Not for you,” Kenji told Jason harshly, then turned to Damien. “Please excuse my…friend’s bad manners.”

 

Damien looked at Jason, could see the desperation on his face, how he was hurting.

 

“Ah, give him some,” Damien smiled. “The more the merrier for a party, right?”

 

Kenji considered for a moment and then nodded. “True.” He reached into the box and selected one of the small bags and held it out to Jason, and then took it back when Jason tried to take it. “Thank Damien for wanting to include you,” Kenji instructed.

 

Jason turned to Damien, nodding his head quickly. “Thank you,” he mumbled, barely meeting Damien’s eyes, then snatched the bag from Kenji’s hand. He dropped down to his knees next to the table and dumped the powder out onto the glass. He formed it into a rough line then bent over and inhaled it. He sat back on his heels with a shaky sigh, his eyes closed.

 

Kenji handed Damien a bag from the other group in the box, plus a razor blade. “Let the party begin,” he smirked. “I assume coke is acceptable?”

 

Damien regarded the white powder. He’d done a lot of things in his life, but never hard drugs. There was no way he could refuse, though. The mission came before his own personal choices. He just needed to rely on his training, his strong will, to keep himself together as best he could while under the influence and not compromise the mission.

 

He put a pleased smile on his face and winked. “More than acceptable,” he answered, pouring the drugs out onto the table. Then just as Jason had done, he pushed the powder into a line using the razor blade. He hesitated for a fraction of a second before bending over and inhaling the cocaine.

 

It stung as it went down his nasal passage and he couldn’t help the cough that escaped him as he sat back up, wiping at his nose.

 

Kenji laughed and clapped Damien on the back, pleased. “Now we drink!” He signaled the guard and the muscular man brought over a tray with a glass decanter filled halfway with whiskey and two glass tumblers. Kenji poured generous portions of the alcohol in each glass and handed one to Damien.

 

“To new friends,” Kenji said, holding up his glass.

 

Damien held up his own glass. “To new friends,” he smiled, then he and Kenji both drank the whiskey in one long swallow, which burned as it went down his throat.

 

He’d no more than put his glass back down on the table and Kenji was refilling it. Two more shots later and the combination of the alcohol and the cocaine slammed into Damien like an anti-tank missile.

 

A rush of euphoria surged through him and the room started to spin. His heart pounded in his chest, his breathing fast, making him lightheaded. He sat back heavily against the couch, looking around the room, the colors seemingly brighter, sounds louder. Jason was still on the floor, slumped against the chair, eyes closed with a smile on his face. Over on the other couch, Huan’s jeans were pooled around his ankles, the dancer now on his knees giving Huan a blowjob. Huan’s hands were on either side of the dancer’s head, his own thrown back against the couch, groaning loudly as the dancer got him off.

 

There were hands on Damien’s shoulders and he turned to see Kenji with a hungry look on his face, pushing Damien down to lay flat on the couch. Damien went willingly, seemingly disconnected from his body. When Damien’s legs were on the couch Kenji straddled them and unbuttoned Damien’s shirt, pushing the material to the side and exposing Damien’s bare chest.

 

Kenji ran his hands up from Damien’s waist to his collarbone, through the soft, dark chest hair, brushing over both of Damien’s nipples. Through the haze of the drugs Damien fought against the urge to push Kenji’s hands away and tell him to stop. So instead he dug his fingers into the leather beneath him as Kenji unbuttoned Damien’s jeans and pushed them and his briefs down far enough to take Damien’s cock in his hand.

 

Damien closed his eyes as Kenji started jacking him off, hard and fast. His head spinning, he could barely string two thoughts together but he knew if he was looking at Kenji he’d never be able to perform. He swallowed down his repulsion at the Triad leader’s hands on him and by force of will conjured Michael’s face behind his eyelids.

 

He remembered the first time Michael had ever touched him, how their relationship started. They were in Munich, Germany, celebrating the end of another successful mission, both of them pumped up on excess adrenaline, having cheated death one more time. Half a bottle of whiskey between them later in Damien’s hotel room and their mouths were fused together and Michael’s hand was down Damien’s pants. The end of the two of them dancing around each other for years, waiting for the other to make the first move. It had felt so fucking good, Michael finally touching him after fantasizing about it for so long. His grip was perfect, not too tight or too light, his thumb pressing against the bundle of nerves on the underside of the head with each stroke, his fingers sliding through the precome leaking from the tip, smearing it down the shaft.

 

Damien groaned out loud as he fell into the memory, feeling himself harden as “Michael” stroked him to climax minutes later.

 

Damien gasped as he came, his eyes opening, Michael’s face wavering above him before morphing into the smug, satisfied face of Kenji Seng. Kenji nodded approvingly and Damien felt as though he’d just been through an audition of some sort.

 

“Oh yes, I like you, Damien,” Kenji said, his eyes cold, his smile predatory and Damien felt a chill race down his spine.

 

His earlier thought came back to him… _Welcome to my parlor said the spider to the fly_ and Damien felt the first strands of Kenji Seng’s web entwine themselves around his body.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Michael paced the length of his hotel room restlessly. He’d lost count of the number of times he’d walked from the door to the balcony and back over the past three and a half hours, glancing at the screen of the laptop Richmond had given him on each pass. The screen that showed a blinking dot that represented Damien’s GPS location. Which was still at Club Almari. Michael looked at his watch – 2:32 am. He blew out a frustrated breath and ran a hand over his face. When he opened his eyes he blinked and did a double take – the dot was moving, heading slowly back toward the hotel.

 

The next twelve minutes seemed like an eternity, with Michael waiting in his open doorway for his partner, until Damien staggered around the corner at the far end of the hallway. Damien’s steps were sluggish, and he walked with one hand trailing against the wall, seemingly to keep himself from falling over.

 

“Shit,” Michael swore and hurried to his partner’s side.

 

“Mike!” Damien exclaimed much too loudly with a lopsided smile, reaching out and practically falling against Michael, who caught him before he could hit the ground.

 

Michael propped him up against the wall and took Damien’s face between his hands to get a good look at him. And he didn’t like what he saw. Damien’s eyes were pinpricks and shifting back and forth rapidly. His skin was flushed and he was breathing fast, the smell of alcohol strong on his breath. And his coordination was shot to hell.

 

Damien was high. And drunk.

 

“Bloody hell,” Michael cursed, his jaw clenching. He swung Damien’s left arm over his shoulders and walked his partner down the hall and into his room since it was closer than Damien’s, kicking the door shut behind them.

 

He deposited Damien on the bed and kneeled down in front of him. Damien looked aimlessly around the room, still with the drug induced smile on his face. Michael put one hand on Damien’s thigh and the other against the side of his face, giving him a gentle tap on his cheek.

 

“Damien. Damien. C’mon, mate, I need you to focus,” Michael told him, but Damien still wasn’t meeting his gaze.

 

Another tap on his cheek, harder this time, which finally got Damien’s attention. He blinked sluggishly and then tried to focus on Michael’s face.

 

“Mike?” he slurred, confusion in his voice.

 

Michael blew out a breath. “Yeah, it’s me.”

 

“I’m really tired,” Damien mumbled, starting to tip sideways, eyes closing.

 

Michael caught his shoulders and sat him upright again. “I know you are, but I need you to tell me what happened tonight. Hang on.” He quickly stood and moved across the room to snag a bottle of water from the mini-fridge, which he opened and handed to Damien.

 

“Here, drink this,” he told his partner, who put the bottle to his mouth and swallowed down several gulps of the cold liquid.

 

Damien nodded when he finished drinking and his eyes seemed to focus better on Michael.

 

“You with me?” Michael asked.

 

Damien ran a hand over his face and blew out a breath. “Yeah. Yeah.”

 

Michael sat down on the bed beside him. “What the hell went on tonight?”

 

Damien drank again before answering. “I found out how Kenji keeps his ‘companion’s’ happy,” he told Michael, disgusted. “By getting them addicted and then becoming their drug dealer. I was…initiated tonight with several lines of coke and half a bottle of whiskey.” He fished inside his pants pocket and withdrew a business card, which he handed to Michael.

 

**_CLUB ALMARI_ **

**_KENJI SENG – OWNER_ **

 

“Flip it over,” Damien told him and Michael did so. On the back was a handwritten address.

 

“Kenji wants me to meet him at his house tomorrow night,” Damien told him.

 

Michael shook his head angrily. “ _Drugs?_ No. This isn’t what we bargained for. There’s got to be a better way to get close to him. I’m not going to watch you become a bloody addict.”

 

“Stop mother-henning me, Michael,” Damien snapped. “I’m a big boy. I know what to expect now. I can handle this.”

 

And five seconds later Damien was staggering to the bathroom, leaning over the toilet and throwing up the copious amount of alcohol he’d consumed that night.

 

“Yeah, you can handle this, all right,” Michael murmured as he crouched down next to his partner, a hand on his back.

 

When Damien’s stomach was finally empty he sat back on his heels, face pale, a hand on his forehead. “Oh God, Mike, my head…”

 

“Hang on,” Michael said, rising up and going over to the sink. He wet down two washcloths with cool water and filled up the drinking cup as well. He handed the cup to Damien first, who rinsed out his mouth and spit into the toilet. Then he handed one of the washcloths to him and he put it over his face. Michael crouched back down next to him and put the other cool cloth against the back of Damien’s neck. Damien let out a long sigh, his shoulders sagging.

 

A minute later Damien let the washcloth fall from his face. He nodded at Michael. “Thanks,” he said gratefully. “I’m sorry I snapped at you,” he apologized.

 

“It’s okay,” Michael reassured him. “You’re not yourself right now. Let’s get you to bed, eh?” he said, and helped Damien to his feet.

 

Damien’s eyes started to close as soon as he sat down on the bed, so Michael undressed him – boots, socks, jeans – but paused when he unbuttoned Damien’s shirt and saw streaks of dried semen on his chest.

 

Damien snagged Michael’s wrist. “It’s not what you think. We didn’t…he jacked me off,” he explained.

 

Michael rose from the bed without a word, swallowing deeply, trying desperately not to picture Kenji’s hands on Damien, but knowing this was just the start of what could be a long road for them both. Michael needed to check his feelings at the door.

 

Michael retrieved one of the washcloths and cleaned off Damien’s chest and a few minutes later they were both in bed, Damien a heavy unconscious weight on Michael’s chest, having passed out the moment his eyes closed. Michael held him close, a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

 

This mission was not going to end well.


	3. CHAPTER THREE

## CHAPTER THREE

 

Damien slept until early that afternoon. He looked better and ate most of the food Michael brought him, but wore his sunglasses when Bravo Team convened in the crib later that day.

 

Locke wasted no time and as soon as everyone was seated he looked at Michael and Damien.

 

“Report.”

 

Michael went first. “I ended up in an actual brawl, which worked out better than my staged fight would have. Seng was impressed and hired me on the spot. I start tonight.”

 

Locke nodded. “Excellent. Scott?”

 

Damien removed his sunglasses and blinked against the harsh overhead lights. “I’m in as well. I passed my initiation.”

 

Michael clenched his jaw and glanced away, drawing Locke’s attention.

 

“Meaning?” the colonel asked.

 

“I got high. And drunk,” Damien said matter-of-factly. “That’s how he keeps his companions so pliant. He gets them addicted and then doles out the drugs.”

 

Uncomfortable looks passed between Richmond and Martinez, but Locke seemed unaffected by Damien’s statement.

 

“I met Kenji’s current boy-toy,” Damien continued. “A guy named Jason. An American. He was in bad shape. I don’t think I’ll have a problem replacing him. Kenji seems to be looking for fresh meat.” He leaned forward. “Once Jason’s out we need to get him help and get him home.”

 

Locke nodded. “We’ll see to it. What else?”

 

“I also met some guy named Huan. He was in Kenji’s private room getting a lap dance.”

 

Damien described him and Martinez started typing on her laptop. She nodded a moment later. “Huan Lei. He’s Seng’s second in command, his right-hand man.”

 

Damien pulled out Kenji’s business card and set it on the table with the address facing up. “Kenji wants me at his house tonight.”

 

Locke nodded. “Excellent work. Both of you. Assuming Scott will be moving into Seng’s house we need a plan for you and Michael to meet regularly to exchange information.”

 

“I was thinking about that,” Michael replied. “Damien and I can meet quickly in the bathroom at the club each night.”

 

Damien nodded. “That’ll work.”

 

Richmond spoke up. “So you know, Seng’s people did a superficial check this morning into both your fake identities.”

 

“No slip ups now,” Locke said. “Make sure you know those histories backward and forwards.” His voice dropped. “Be careful. Both of you. Good luck.”

 

Michael caught Damien’s gaze. Luck. They were going to need it.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Later that evening Damien stepped up to the wrought iron security gate in front of Kenji Seng’s house. Though it wasn’t exactly a house. Situated at the far end of Chinatown, two blocks from where the Section 20 crib was located was a former warehouse district that was slowly being turned into high-end lofts. It looked like Kenji was one of the first to move in.

 

Damien pressed the intercom button located next to the gate and heard the whir of the security camera positioned above the gate as it swiveled to point down at Damien.

 

“ _Yes?”_ came a disembodied Asian voice from the speaker.

 

“Damien Weller to see Mr. Seng. He’s expecting me,” Damien answered.

 

There was a ten second pause and then Damien heard the lock on the security gate disengage.

 

_“Come through,”_ the voice said.

 

Damien pushed open the gate, walked past it, closed it behind him then walked up the short sidewalk to the front door, which opened just as he reached it, by Huan Lei.

 

Kenji’s second in command looked him up and down disinterestedly. “White Bread,” he addressed Damien as if that was his actual name, as Damien walked past him into the loft.

 

Damien whistled inwardly as he took a quick look around. Running guns was apparently a very lucrative business. The loft was spacious, two stories, very modern, very Western. It would fit right in in Manhattan. The only colors Damien saw were white and black with red accents amid the tile and chrome. Damien himself matched the décor with his loose, white button down linen shirt, snug black jeans and black shoes.

 

“Damien!”

 

Damien looked to his right as Kenji approached, a smile on his face.

 

“I’m glad you decided to come,” Kenji said, walking up close, putting a hand on Damien’s shoulder and squeezing.

 

Damien forced himself not to shudder at Kenji’s touch. “Thanks for the invitation. And for last night. I had a great time,” Damien lied smoothly.

 

Kenji’s smile was smug. “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.” He waved a hand out in front of him. “Let me show you around.”

 

Damien nodded and went to follow along after Kenji when Jason suddenly appeared from a hallway off to the right, hurrying toward them, looking just as haggard as last night. Kenji stopped walking, his eyes hard, expression now a mask of anger and annoyance. He flicked his hand impatiently at Jason, pointing toward the living room area. Jason stopped short, hurt and confusion on his face at being dismissed, but followed Kenji’s command without a word. As he passed in front of Damien, the younger man shot him a look full of contempt and hatred. There was no doubt that Jason knew Damien was his replacement and he’d soon be out on the streets. Damien wished he could tell the sickly young man that it was going to be the best thing for him, that help would be waiting for him. But instead he forced himself to smirk and wink as Jason continued past him and threw himself down on one of the black leather couches.

 

When Kenji looked back at Damien he had schooled his features back into a pleasant smile. He once again indicated ahead of them with his hand and began the tour.

 

Damien nodded appreciatively as Kenji showed him around the first floor. The living room area had several black leather couches and chairs and low glass tables. At the opposite end of the room there was a full wet bar, well stocked from the amount of bottles Damien could see. Kenji told him that the door next to the bar led to an indoor pool.

 

The rest of the first floor contained a generous size kitchen, two bathrooms and a long, glass-walled meeting room with an oblong table to seat at least twelve.

 

Upstairs were three spacious guest rooms, each with their own bathroom, Kenji’s massive master suite with a king size bed, and a room off the hallway with a closed door they walked right past. Damien was sure that was Kenji’s private office.

 

There was also a long, wide open loft area for entertainment with a massive flat screen TV and a pool table, at which Huan Lei and two other Asian men were playing. Damien got the distinct impression that the two men were bodyguards, from the way they sized up Damien as he walked past, plus the telltale bulge of a concealed firearm under their shirts.

 

Throughout the tour, under the pretense of looking around and being impressed, Damien surreptitiously scanned the rooms for any interior security cameras and made a mental map in his head of the layout of the loft to later relay to Section 20 in case the takedown would happen here. And he would need this information for his own spying as well, provided Kenji asked him to stay at the house with him.

 

“The club scene must be very lucrative,” Damien commented to Kenji as they walked back downstairs.

 

Kenji laughed as he led Damien back to the living room area. “The club is just a distraction. A source of entertainment for me.”

 

Damien sat in one of the chairs opposite Kenji, who sat on the couch. “Oh? What business are you in then?”

 

“Import/export,” Kenji replied vaguely. “I inherited the business from my father.” He leaned forward, arms resting on the tops of his thighs. “Like your father, mine had no vision, no desire to expand. He was too complacent, set in his ways.”

 

“Something tells me you’re the complete opposite of your father,” Damien replied, smooth talking Kenji.

 

Kenji leaned back, rested his arm along the back of the couch. “You’d be right. I’m going to take the business and make it bigger and better than he ever could.”

 

Damien’s skin crawled, thinking of the guns Kenji supplied to terrorists, who were, in turn, killing innocent people. He forced a slow smile on his face, continuing to suck up to Kenji. “Oh, I have no doubt of that.”

 

He could see his words had the desired effect of inflating Kenji’s ego and Damien wanted to throw up.

 

Kenji clapped his hands together. “Enough talk about business. You said you were in KL to party.” He looked over at Jason. “Get the box,” he told him and the young man scrambled from the couch and hurried away down the hallway. Kenji then turned to look upstairs and snapped his fingers. “Huan! Tell Yeo to bring the car around. We’re going to Almari.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

The sleek black stretch limo pulled up in front of Club Almari ten minutes later and Yeo the driver, who was also one of the two bodyguards, opened the rear door to let Damien, Kenji, Jason and Huan out. Once inside, on the way upstairs to Kenji’s private room, Damien scanned the crowd, looking for Michael, but was unable to pick him out.

 

Someone must have called ahead to the club, most likely Huan, for there was a security guard already stationed outside who opened the door for them. The lights were on inside, the club’s dance music coming through the speakers and another security guard was standing back near the bar, on which several trays of food were sitting. Huan excused himself, telling Kenji he was off to find his own entertainment and would be back later.

 

Damien sat down on one of the chairs with Kenji sitting opposite him on the couch. Jason dropped to the floor beside Kenji and put the black box on the table.

 

Damien’s stomach sank. More drugs. He made himself nod eagerly as Kenji opened the box. “That was some damn good coke last night.”

 

Kenji waved a hand. “Cocaine is for children. This is for real men.” This time he selected two small bags from the same side of the box that he’d given Jason the previous night.

 

Damien’s mind quickly did the math. If that white powder wasn’t coke, combined with the part of the world they were in…it left only one conclusion. Heroin.

 

Shit.

 

He swallowed hard and nodded. “Nice. That’s more like it.”

 

Kenji passed one of the bags to Damien and one to Jason, who snatched at it like a child grabbing at candy. This time, instead of sitting back and watching Damien and Jason get high, Kenji removed the other black case from the box. He opened it to reveal a syringe already loaded with clear liquid, and an elastic band. Looked like Kenji preferred his high to be intravenous and immediate. Though based on the small amount of liquid heroin compared to the amount of powder both Damien and Jason had, Kenji wouldn’t be flying as high as they would. Just enough to give him a rush but still keep his wits about him. It was clear he was a practiced, and controlled, drug user.

 

As Damien and Jason poured the powdered heroin out on the table, Kenji expertly tied the elastic band around his upper left arm and clenched and unclenched his fist, pumping up his veins. It was only then that Damien noticed the fine needle marks near the crook of Kenji’s elbow.

 

Jason inhaled the drug eagerly and with the feeling of a lead weight in his stomach, Damien did the same, just as Kenji injected himself. Like a trained monkey, Jason hurried to take the syringe from Kenji, cap it, and place it back in the case, along with the elastic band. He then went to the back of the room and first brought the decanter of whiskey and glasses and then the tray of food, all of which he placed on the table. Kenji poured himself and Damien generous amounts of the amber alcohol, then raised his glass.

 

“To being better than our fathers.”

 

Damien nodded. “I’ll drink to that,” he replied, then swallowed down half the whiskey in his glass.

 

The heroin hit Damien’s bloodstream just minutes later, slamming into him like a runaway train. The rush of euphoria was so much greater than the cocaine that it nearly took his breath away. He felt dizzy with it, his entire body flushing with warmth, every nerve ending on fire, his heart pounding. “Fuck…” he breathed.

 

Kenji nodded, pleased. “Yes, there you go.”

 

Jason crawled over to Kenji, trying to get between his legs, reaching out to cup Kenji’s cock through his pants. But Kenji pushed him back and pointed to Damien. “Entertain me,” he told Jason, grasping the underside of the young man’s jaw roughly. “Show Damien what that talented mouth of yours can do.”

 

Damien expected Jason to refuse, but one look at Jason’s flushed face with his wide eyes and pinprick pupils and Damien knew he was too far gone to protest. Kenji reached into the black box and tossed a condom at Jason, which bounced off his chest and hit the floor. Jason snatched it up and crawled over to Damien, immediately reaching for the zipper on Damien’s pants. Jason tugged, pulling down the black jeans and briefs enough to expose Damien’s cock. Damien hissed as the material dragged down his thighs and his ass came in contact with the leather of the couch, the heroin making his skin suddenly hyper-sensitive, and he pulled off his shirt and tossed it to the floor.

 

Jason took Damien’s flaccid cock in his hand and started stroking. Damien hated himself for the spark of pleasure he felt at someone other than Michael touching him, unable to resist the affect the heroin had on him, the euphoria flowing through his veins. He felt himself harden then Jason slipped the condom on his cock, his mouth following it down, starting to suck. Damien’s hands instinctively rose up and gripped Jason’s shoulders as the young man’s head bobbed up and down.

 

Damien heard Kenji make a pleased sound and looked over to see him with his own shirt off and pants undone, his cock jutting out proudly as Kenji stroked himself, getting off on watching Damien and Jason.

 

Damien squeezed his eyes shut then. He was helpless to stop his body’s response but he refused to watch what was happening, what he was letting happen. He fought hard against the heroin, how disconnected he felt from his body and forced one small part of his mind to conjure up Michael’s face again, and another memory.

 

They were on a recon mission in Hungary, camped out in the woods for days, observing their quarry, who had yet to meet up with the party they were going to be passing their information on to.

 

Damien was tired, cold, bored and horny and had been expressing his displeasure to Michael for the past two days, like a whiny, petulant child, until Michael finally snapped. Before Damien could blink, Michael had him thrown up against a tree with his pants down around his ankles, his mouth on Damien’s cock. It was stupidly risky and dangerous and Damien had never been more turned on in his life. Michael sucked and stroked him fast, the most aggressive blowjob he’d ever given Damien and it took his breath away, how quickly his climax surged up his spine. He came so damn hard he had to bite his lip to keep from crying out as he spilled himself down Michael’s throat over and over…

 

Damien gasped, coming out of his memory as he felt himself start to come for real. “Fuck!” he swore and Jason rose up and sat back, pulling off the condom a split second before Damien came, his release splashing against his own chest and stomach.

 

A low moan across from him had Damien lifting his gaze in time to see Kenji climax as well, his cock spurting thick, white ropes of semen on his hand and stomach, that predatory smile once again on his face and directed at Damien.

 

Damien looked away, his head rolling against the back of the chair, feeling sick to his stomach…and like he’d just passed another of Kenji’s auditions.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Michael walked the floor of Club Almari wearing his official “uniform” – black jeans and a skin tight black spandex t-shirt meant to emphasize his muscular physique. And it was doing more than an admirable job of it. The club’s logo was on the front of the shirt and SECURITY was emblazoned on the back in white letters, in English, Chinese, and Malay.

 

Twenty-five minutes ago he saw Seng’s entourage, including Damien and another man that must be Jason, arrive at the club and head upstairs to Kenji’s private room. He’d tried to catch his partner’s eye, but Damien hadn’t seen him.

 

What he did see was Huan Lei come back downstairs and start making his way around the perimeter of the club, stopping at each man that Michael had previously identified as the inside drug dealers. He took an envelope from each of them, obviously filled with that night’s take.

 

Michael looked at his watch again and then up at Seng’s room. The guards would be changing rotations soon, sending Michael out to the front door. He hoped he’d be able to see Damien up close before that. But it didn’t look like…

 

Before Michael could finish his thought, the door to the private room opened and out stepped both Seng and Damien. They lingered for a moment upstairs, looking down and observing the crowd, before descending the steps onto the main floor.

 

As Damien got closer Michael could instantly tell something was off with his partner. Damien bobbed his head to the beat of the music, looked around with a glassy-eyed stare and laughed too loud and too long at whatever Kenji was saying to him.

 

He was high. Again.

 

Michael swallowed down his anger and put a pleasant smile on his face as he approached Seng and Damien, who were now at the bar with shots of whiskey in front of them.

 

“Good evening, Mr. Seng,” Michael greeted Kenji.

 

“Michael!” He looked Michael up and down and nodded his head. “Looks like you’re fitting in just fine.”

 

“I am, sir. Thank you again for the opportunity.”

 

“Michael, I’d like you to meet Damien. He’s a…special friend of mine. I’d like you to afford him every courtesy whenever he’s here.”

 

Michael nodded. “Of course, sir,” he answered, then turned toward his partner. Up close he could see Damien’s flushed skin and pinprick pupils and the way he wavered slightly on his feet, leaning against the bar for balance. His white shirt was buttoned incorrectly and Michael’s stomach churned, thinking of only one reason why Damien would’ve had his clothes off.

 

Michael extended his hand. “Nice to meet you, Damien.”

 

Damien gave him a drugged out smile and shook his hand sloppily. “You, too!” he answered, and Michael wondered if Damien was even registering who he was.

 

Out of the corner of his eye, Michael saw Huan Lei, standing on the edge of the dance floor, raise his hand to get Kenji’s attention. Kenji inclined his head toward Huan in acknowledgment, then turned to Damien.

 

“I have to go. Come back tomorrow night and we’ll continue what we started.” He ran his hand down Damien’s chest and then down between Damien’s legs, cupping Damien’s cock through his jeans.

 

Damien’s eyes closed slightly at the touch and he smiled widely. “Oh, I’ll be here,” he replied, his words a bit slurred.

 

Kenji turned to Michael then. “Michael, see to it that Damien gets a taxi back to his hotel.”

 

“Of course,” Michael answered as Kenji walked away, toward Huan.

 

Michael immediately reached out and took the shot of whiskey from Damien’s hand, which was halfway to his mouth. “You’ve had more than enough, mate,” he said quietly. “Come on, let’s go.” He put his hand on Damien’s back and his partner didn’t protest as he led him toward the front doors and outside into the muggy night air.

 

Damien sagged against him as they stood on the curb, waiting for the next taxi, and this close Michael could smell the scent of semen on him. Michael swallowed hard and clenched his jaw.

 

“Mike?” Damien whispered. “I don’t feel so good.”

 

Michael squeezed his arm in sympathy. “I know, mate. I know,” he whispered back as a taxi pulled up. “Can you make it up to the room on your own?”

 

Damien hesitated then nodded and Michael opened the rear door of the taxi for him. “I’ll be there soon,” he told him as Damien practically fell inside onto the back seat.

 

Michael closed the door and gave the driver the name of the hotel, plus money for the fare and extra for him to make sure Damien got inside. He watched until the taillights disappeared from view then reluctantly went back into the club.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

It was the longest hour and a half of Michael’s life until his shift was over at the club and he was able to get back to the hotel. He found Damien passed out cold face down on his bed, still fully dressed. Michael crouched down next to the bed and shook his partner’s shoulder.

 

“Damien. Damien. C’mon mate, wake up.”

 

Another shake and Damien stirred, his eyelids fluttering open. “Mike?” he slurred.

 

“Yeah, it’s me. Can you sit up?”

 

Damien blew out a breath and then levered himself up slowly, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and resting his head in his hands. “I’m really tired,” he mumbled.

 

Michael squeezed his shoulder. “I know. You can go back to sleep in a minute. I need you to tell me what happened tonight. How much coke did you do?”

 

Damien raised his head and Michael looked into his blue eyes, relieved to see that his pupils were returning to their normal size.

 

Damien shook his head. “We’ve moved on to the big leagues. Heroin. Kenji’s drug of choice it turns out. He likes to shoot up.”

 

Michael sat back on his heels. “Fuck. Damien…”

 

“I know, Mike. I know. But I’m almost there with him. I have to stick this out. I –“

 

“-- can handle it, I know,” Michael finished for him. He rested his hand on the side of Damien’s face and kissed him gently, tasting the whiskey on his lips. He sat back and tugged on Damien’s misbuttoned shirt. “What else happened?” he asked, and Damien glanced away from him.

 

“Did you have sex with him?” Michael continued, wanting to know but not wanting to at the same time.

 

Damien looked back at him. “No. After we got high he had Jason suck me off while he watched and jacked off.”

 

Michael was disgusted. “That sick fuck. I hate this, Damien. I hate what this is doing to you already.”

 

“It would be worse if I didn’t have you,” Damien said quietly and Michael furrowed his brow in question. “It’s you…us…I think about. You’re getting me through this, Mike.”

 

The last of Damien’s energy left him then and his eyes slid closed. Michael caught his shoulders as his body started to slump to the side and eased him back down onto the bed. Michael rested his hand on Damien’s chest, felt his heart beating strong and sure beneath his palm, in contrast to the exhaustion written on his face, even in sleep.

 

“But not fast enough…”


	4. CHAPTER FOUR

## CHAPTER FOUR

 

 

Later the next afternoon Damien sat down heavily in his chair at the briefing table in the Section 20 crib. He reluctantly removed his sunglasses and blinked against the offending bright lights. He was having a harder time bouncing back from the heroin than he had the cocaine. When he’d finally woken up, for just a split second, he’d craved that high, that feeling of utter bliss where he didn’t care about anything. He’d turned to Michael, laying next to him, the only thing grounding him and keeping him sane, and lost himself in Michael’s embrace. He gave Damien everything he needed, his hands and mouth erasing everyone else who had touched Damien’s body. Michael said nothing, but Damien could see the concern and feeling of helplessness in his hazel eyes. Just like now, looking at him from across the table.

 

Richmond slid a bottle of water over to Damien and his hand shook slightly as he reached out for it. He snatched up the bottle quickly, hoping no one had noticed but it hadn’t escaped Julia’s keen eyes. She put her hand on his arm, a silent question on her face. He shook his head slightly and gave her a cocky wink and smile, deflecting her worry. He hoped.

 

Locke approached Bravo Team then and remained standing, leaning over and bracing his hands on the top of the table. He immediately got down to business.

 

“Right. Report. Michael?”

 

Michael cleared his throat. “I had my first shift at Almari last night. The guards rotate stations throughout the night – the front door, on the dance floor, the bar area and inside and outside Seng’s private room. He seems to only be there to party and not a place he meets his ‘clients’. The only business I saw going on was Huan Lei collecting the take from that night’s drug sales. Everything relating to the arms dealing must happen at Seng’s house.”

 

Locke nodded his head. “At least we’re narrowing it down. But keep your eyes open.” He turned to Damien. “Scott?”

 

Damien leaned forward and rested his arms on the table. “I got a pretty good look around Kenji’s house. I’ll sit with Richmond and Martinez and sketch out the layout and where I saw security cameras. I agree with Michael. He’s got a big meeting room at the house. I’m sure he’s conducting all his deals there where it’s a more secure environment.”

 

“And how are things proceeding with Seng himself?” Locke asked. “Because frankly, you look like hell. Are the drugs still in play?”

 

Damien sat back and glanced away from his boss as Michael huffed out a breath and crossed his arms over his chest.

 

“Go, on, tell him,” Michael said, anger lacing his voice.

 

Damien blew out a breath and looked back at Locke. “We’ve moved on to heroin. Kenji’s drug of choice.”

 

This time even Locke looked concerned.

 

“This is getting too risky, boss,” Michael started.

 

“He’s _testing_ me!” Damien interjected strongly. “I’ve done _everything_ he’s wanted. I’m getting in good with him. I’m not backing out now. We can’t afford to abandon this mission and you know it.”

 

Locke was silent for a moment. “We received word right before you arrived that there was another attack in the Philippines. Eighteen dead, including one American. So you’re right, we can’t abandon this mission. But I also said I wasn’t going to lose either one of you boys. We need to wrap this up as quickly as we can.”

 

Damien couldn’t have agreed more. He was sliding down a slippery slope and losing his footing more with each passing day.

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Damien left the crib first, alone. They had to make sure that he and Michael weren’t spotted together now. He automatically started for the hotel but changed his mind halfway there. He was sure Michael would head there as well and he didn’t feel like talking to his partner right now. He’d known Michael for enough years now to read him like a book. And everything about Michael screamed ‘anger’ after Locke dismissed them. Damien knew he wasn’t angry at him, but at the sudden turn the mission had taken, with the introduction of the heroin. They both needed some time to clear their heads.

 

Damien wandered into the heart of Chinatown, surrounded immediately by throngs of tourists and vendors. Unwanted memories flashed in his head. He’d hoped he’d never have to see Kuala Lumpur again. It had been a dark time in his life that he didn’t want to be reminded of. Yet here he was again. He only hoped that history wasn’t doomed to repeat itself.

 

He came across an outdoor café and took a seat. A moment later a pretty young waitress hurried out and handed him a menu. He had thought he was hungry but discovered that his appetite had disappeared, so he instead ordered a beer. While he waited he took out his pack of cigarettes and lit one up.

 

He took a deep drag and slowly blew out the smoke. He didn’t blame Michael for being concerned. He could easily slip up and say or do something to compromise the mission while under the influence, possibly getting himself killed. And truth be told, the affect the heroin had on him scared him. The euphoria he experienced was akin to the adrenaline rush he experienced during a firefight – every nerve ending alive, his heart pounding – but without having bullets flying at him from every direction. He could easily see why people became addicted.

 

By the time he had finished his beer and his cigarette the heat of the day weighed on Damien, his shirt sticking damply to his skin and sweat trailing down his temple. He threw a few bills down on the table and walked back to the hotel.

 

He paused for a second outside Michael’s door but then continued on to his own room, too tired and hot to talk or get into an argument. So instead he headed for the shower as soon as the door closed behind him.

 

He sighed gratefully as the cool water fell down upon him, washing away the sweat from his naked body. He had no more than closed his eyes and tipped his face up into the water when a soft noise had him opening them again, instantly all soldier, muscles instinctively tensing. Only to relax when he recognized his partner’s stride walking toward him. A moment later the shower door opened and Michael stood there, naked. Without a word he joined Damien under the water, wrapping his arms around him and kissing him hungrily.

 

Damien responded in kind, pulling Michael close, slanting his mouth across Michael’s, deepening the kiss. Four hands roamed across slick, wet skin, Damien grateful for the cool water as he felt his skin flush from the fire Michael was igniting inside him. When one of Michael’s hands dipped down to cup his ass and pull their groins tightly together, Damien pulled back from the kiss with a groan and turned around, his palms flat on the tiles, his head just resting against them. He spread his legs and Michael was there, fitting himself against Damien’s wet body, pressing his chest to Damien’s back. One of Michael’s arms went diagonally across Damien’s chest, his hand resting on Damien’s collarbone. His other hand went around and down between Damien’s legs, where he took Damien’s cock in his grip and started stroking. Damien was fully erect in moments and he pushed his hips back, wanting more, feeling Michael’s hard cock pressing against his ass, the water running between their bodies.

 

Michael released Damien’s cock then and took his own in hand and then Damien felt the blunt pressure of the head of Michael’s wet cock against his entrance. The next moment twin groans echoed against the shower walls as Michael slipped inside Damien’s body. Damien arched his neck back, eyes closing, fingers curling against the tile, his head falling against Michael’s neck and shoulder as Michael filled him so completely.

 

All of Damien’s senses felt heightened as Michael began to move, pushing his cock in and out of Damien fast and deep. Damien felt his body stretch around Michael’s thick cock, could hear the pounding of his heart over the spray of water falling down upon them. Michael’s lips were on the side of his neck, kissing his wet skin, nipping. One of Michael’s arms was wrapped tightly around Damien’s waist now, holding him in place as Michael thrust again and again. His other hand was still on Damien’s chest, his fingers now playing with a flat nipple, rubbing, tugging until it was a hard peak, the sensation shooting straight down to Damien’s cock.

 

It suddenly hit Damien then how quiet it was, with only the sound of the falling water surrounding them. Normally their lovemaking was vocal, with loud, sharp cries of pleasure. But today…it was if they were both afraid to break the fragile bubble they’d created around them with noise.

 

So when Michael came minutes later it was with a soft, sharp intake of breath against Damien’s ear as his cock pulsed over and over deep inside him, Damien’s mouth falling open with his own silent cry, his release painting the tile in thick streams.

 

Michael held Damien close as their bodies shook through their climax, until their breathing slowed. He slipped from Damien’s body then and Damien immediately felt empty. He turned in Michael’s embrace, the water caressing their skin, and kissed him long and slow, loathe to break that fragile bubble.

 

But eventually he eased back from the kiss and rested his forehead briefly against Michael’s. He blew out a breath and lifted his head, saw the worry in Michael’s hazel eyes he was trying hard to hide. He rubbed a thumb across Michael’s cheek.

 

“I have to go,” he whispered, voice rough.

 

Michael cupped the side of Damien’s face. “Come back to me.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

With Michael’s words ringing in his ears, Damien approached the front doors of Club Almari. He had hoped that as the afternoon and evening wore on he’d start to feel better, but was, in fact, getting worse. He had a sharp headache now and sweating more than he should be, feeling his dark green button down shirt sticking to his back. His left hand still trembled slightly and he slid it into the pocket of his khaki cargo pants. All symptoms of mild heroin withdrawal, he knew. Not that he could do anything about it except try and fight his way through it.

 

Michael was working the door when Damien walked up. They locked eyes for a long second and Damien saw Michael’s jaw muscle clench. He looked away and with a deep, steadying breath he pushed through the doors and into the club. The loud, pounding music and sharp flashing lights were like an ice pick in his head and he hurried through the mass of bodies and up the stairs to Kenji’s private room. The security guard at Kenji’s room nodded at him and opened the door.

 

Apparently Damien had missed the start of the party. His gaze passed over the ever present security guard in the back of the room to stop on the action happening on both couches. Huan Lei was on one, his pants undone, with a different male dancer writhing away on his lap, their tongues down one another’s throats. Kenji was on the other couch, with Jason on top of him, the young man wearing only a red thong. Without his clothes on Damien could truly see how unhealthy he looked, much too thin. There was a tray of sushi on the bar with several pieces missing. On the glass table there were a few empty beer bottles and the decanter of whiskey, along with the black box of drugs, with its lid already open. There was a dusting of powder on the table next to it along with the zippered case that contained Kenji’s syringe.

 

Kenji turned his head as he approached, a pleased smile crossing his face. “Damien!” he shouted and then unceremoniously pushed Jason off of him. Jason fell to the side and tumbled off of the couch. He whipped his head around and shot daggers at Damien.

 

Kenji rose from the couch and draped an arm across Damien’s shoulders. “I’m glad you’re here,” he told him as he sat them both down on the couch, his hand sliding down Damien’s chest.

 

“Nowhere else I’d rather be,” Damien lied, reaching out and laying a hand on Kenji’s leg. “You weren’t lying when you said you knew how to party,” he smiled. “I’ve been having a great time.”

 

“Well let’s keep the party going then, shall we?” Kenji smirked.

 

He leaned forward and pulled the box of drugs across the table toward him and Damien hated himself for the sharp, intense craving he felt as Kenji reached in and plucked out a bag of the white powder. Damien nodded eagerly, not all of it fake, and spilled the heroin out on the table. He coughed as he inhaled it too quickly and poured himself a shot of whiskey which he knocked back. Kenji poured him another, along with one for himself.

 

Damien rested his head back against the couch, waiting for the rush, watching Huan across from him, now getting a hand job from the dancer.

 

“Does that turn you on?” Kenji asked, his mouth next to Damien’s ear. “Watching?”

 

“I prefer doing,” Damien answered, forcing desire in his voice.

 

Kenji’s smile was slick as he moved and straddled Damien’s lap. He unbuttoned Damien’s shirt and pushed the fabric apart. Kenji ran his hands over Damien’s chest, through the sprinkling of dark hair, his thumbs brushing over flat nipples. Damien sucked in a breath at the stimulation, feeling the first spark of the heroin hit his bloodstream. Kenji leaned forward then, his gaze on Damien’s mouth and Damien’s eyes started to slide close, waiting for the inevitable kiss.

 

“Kenji!”

 

Jason’s shout startled Damien and his eyes flew open to see Jason’s hand on Kenji’s shoulder, pulling him back.

 

“You want _him_?” Jason spat, his face a mask of anger and confusion.

 

Kenji was on his feet before Damien could blink, his hand around Jason’s throat, pushing him backward, furious. He shook Jason, his fingers tightening, Jason’s eyes now wide with fear.

 

“Look at you!” Kenji snarled. “You’re pathetic! Used up. You have nothing left that I want.” He shoved Jason then, hard, and Jason stumbled back against the bar. “We’re through. Get out.” He snapped his fingers and the security guard started forward as Kenji turned his back on Jason.

 

With a hoarse, angry scream, Jason grabbed the knife next to the tray of sushi and lunged at Kenji, moving quicker than Damien would’ve thought possible.

 

For a split second Damien considered letting Jason kill Kenji, putting an end to everything, but that would have meant Jason going to jail for murder, an offense in Malaysia that carried a mandatory death sentence. Damien would never allow that to happen to the sick young man who was an innocent victim in all of this. So instead he shouted a warning to Kenji.

 

“Look out!”

 

As Damien stood, pointing back at Jason, Kenji turned on a dime, the knife barely missing him as it swung downward. Kenji lashed out at Jason, punching him viciously across the side of his head and the young man crumpled to the floor. Kenji kicked him once in the face and again in the chest as the security guard rushed to his side. Kenji grabbed a fistful of the guard’s shirt.

 

“Take care of this. _Now_ ,” he snapped, pointing down at Jason, who was barely conscious. “Huan!”

 

Huan pushed the dancer off of him and rose quickly to his feet. Together he and the guard lifted up Jason’s limp body and dragged him out the door, the dancer hurrying out after them, leaving Kenji and Damien alone. Damien felt the room start to spin, a combination of the heroin now taking hold and the adrenaline spike from what had just transpired.

 

A chameleon once again, all trace of fury and violence was gone from Kenji’s face as he stepped up close to Damien.

 

“I'm sorry you had to see that.”

 

Damien shrugged. “You did what you had to. Some people don't understand you don't question the man in charge.”

 

Damien could practically see Kenji puffing up his feathers as Damien deliberately played into his hands, inflating his ego, telling him exactly what he wanted to hear.

 

“You're a smart man, Damien. And someone to whom I now owe a debt of gratitude. You saved my life. Later you can name your reward. But for now, let me give you my thanks.”

 

This time there was nothing or no one to stop the kiss. Damien's stomach rolled as Kenji pushed his tongue into his mouth, his taste harsh and bitter. Damien gave into the heroin rush then, wanting to separate himself as much as he could from the inevitable, letting himself drift as Kenji plundered his mouth aggressively, biting at his lips, hands gripping Damien’s hips.

 

Kenji raised his head and Damien wanted to look away from the lust in Kenji’s eyes, wanted to shift away from the hardness of Kenji’s cock pressing into his groin. But he forced himself to remain still and instead lick his lips and smile. Kenji’s eyes darkened even further and he ran his thumb across Damien’s bottom lip before stepping back.

 

“Strip,” he commanded and Damien did his bidding, undressing quickly. As expected, Kenji’s expression reflected his pleasure at being obeyed, getting off on being in charge.

 

Kenji pointed to the couch. “On your knees.”

 

Damien felt sick as climbed onto the leather, bracing his hands on the back of the couch. He was lightheaded, his heart pounding in his chest, grateful he could finally look away from Kenji. He heard Kenji unzipping his pants and then the sound of a condom packet being torn open. A moment later one of Kenji’s hands held tightly to Damien’s hip and Damien felt the blunt pressure of Kenji’s cock pushing against his entrance. Damien squeezed his eyes closed and hung his head, unable to stop himself from groaning sharply at the burn as Kenji thrust into him without stretching him.

_Think about Michael…think about Michael…think about Michael…_

 

Damien repeated the words over and over as Kenji fucked him hard and fast, desperately needing something to focus on, the haze the heroin created in his mind not enough to stop him from feeling Kenji violating his body.

 

Munich. He was back in Germany with Michael in his hotel room. It was Michael’s hands on him instead, undressing him slowly as that first kiss, that first touch, turned into another first.

 

Michael pushed him gently back onto the bed and mapped every inch of Damien’s body with his hands and mouth, driving his arousal to a fever pitch by the time Michael finally slipped inside him. Damien’s entire body thrummed with desire, every nerve ending on fire as Michael pushed in and out of him again and again, slow and deep.

 

Damien loved sex and made no qualms about it. And he wasn’t shy about sharing the details. Michael knew all about Damien’s sexual conquests, his literal “sailor in every port”. For him it was a form of stress release from the dangerous life he lived.

 

But this…Michael taught him that night how not to have sex, but _make love_.

 

Michael took him higher than he’d ever been, made him feel things he’d never felt. And for the first time, he wanted more. Even though Michael had made it clear that this didn't have to mean anything, no strings. He expected no commitment. He didn't want Damien to try and change for him. He only wanted what Damien was able to give.

 

And by the end of the night he'd given Michael everything without him asking for anything. Including his heart.

 

 

Damien gasped as he was pulled sharply from his memory as Kenji’s hands tightened painfully on his hips. One, two more hard thrusts and Kenji stilled his movements with a satisfied shout an instant before Damien felt him coming inside him, filling the condom. Damien fought down the bile rising in this throat and breathed out harshly as Kenji finally pulled out. Damien hadn’t come, hadn’t even gotten hard. But he needn’t have worried. As Michael had predicted, Kenji hadn’t even bothered touching Damien, only concerned with his own pleasure.

 

Kenji hooked an arm around Damien’s chest and straightened him up, pulling him back against Kenji’s body. Kenji’s mouth was at Damien’s ear, breathing hard. He could hear the satisfaction in his voice.

 

“You’ll stay with me at the house.”

 

And it wasn’t a question.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Michael was just ending his rotation at the door when Huan Lei and another security guard pushed past him, dragging a beaten, semi-conscious man between them. Michael had a moment of panic, instantly thinking it was Damien until he got a quick glimpse of the man’s face. It was Jason. Something had obviously gone wrong upstairs and the young man had paid the price. He wanted to do something for Jason right then but any action he took, stepping in and being overly concerned about an apparent stranger, may raise red flags and he couldn’t afford to have anyone at the club looking too closely at him. He needed to blend in and not call attention to himself. All he could do was contact his team at the first opportunity and have them get Jason to safety as soon as possible.

 

Seng’s limo pulled up then and Huan and the guard dumped the young man in the back seat. Huan closed the door and left with the limo while the guard went back inside.

 

Michael felt his pulse quicken, his concern for Damien growing by the minute. He hoped that his partner would be able to meet him in the bathroom because he needed to know what the hell was going on.

 

Ten minutes later Michael made his rounds near the bar, with one eye on the second floor when the door to Seng’s room opened and Damien practically staggered out, alone. Michael made his way to the bathroom then and stood at the sink, under the pretense of washing his hands. Damien walked in a minute later, barely glancing at Michael, and went into an empty stall. Michael waited until the two men in the bathroom left and then quickly joined Damien, thankful that in a place like this no one would think twice about two pairs of legs in one stall.

 

Damien was backed up as far as he could, wedged between the wall of the stall and the toilet. Michael’s breath caught in his throat as he looked at his partner. It was apparent he was high, his body fidgeting, his head moving restlessly from side to side. But his eyes…they looked haunted.

 

Michael reached out for him. “Bloody hell, Damien…” he whispered.

 

Damien knocked his hand away and Michael blinked in shock.

 

“Don’t…” Damien ground out, averting his gaze from Michael’s. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Just don’t…”

 

“Damien, what the fuck is going on?” Michael asked, now more concerned than ever, Damien’s behavior throwing up all sorts of warning flags. “Was that Jason I saw getting dragged out of here?”

 

Damien gave a sharp nod. “He tried to kill Kenji when Kenji told him he was being replaced by me.” Damien did look him in the eye then. “You’ve got to find him, Mike.”

 

Michael nodded. “We will. I’ll get Richmond and Martinez on it.” He paused. “Does this mean you’re in?”

 

Damien looked away again, swallowed hard. “Yeah. I move in the house tonight.” He glanced at Michael. “I’m going to need a lock pick kit and a USB drive.”

 

Michael nodded again. “I’ll have them for you tomorrow night.” He hesitated, his next question sticking in his throat. “What else happened up there?” he asked gently.

 

Damien’s haunted blue eyes were now full of apology, his expression tearing at Michael.

 

“I’m sorry, Mike,” he breathed, voice breaking.

 

Then he pushed past Michael, slamming out of the stall and out of the bathroom, leaving Michael standing there with his heart clenching in his chest, Damien’s non-answer all the answer he needed.


	5. CHAPTER FIVE

## CHAPTER FIVE

 

The feel of late morning sunlight against his eyelids pulled Damien from his sleep. Eyes still closed, he stretched, the satin sheets cool and smooth against his bare skin. Automatically his hand reached out next to him for Michael…and encountered nothing but air. His brow furrowed and he blinked open his eyes…to discover he was in a strange bed in an unfamiliar room. Disoriented, he sat up quickly, coming fully awake. A moment later he remembered where he was – Kenji Seng’s house, in one of the guest rooms. Another moment later he realized he was completely naked. He glanced quickly around the room and discovered his clothes folded neatly on a chair at the end of the bed, looking like they’d been freshly washed. His wallet with his fake ID and his cigarettes and lighter were on the dresser. His shoes were under the chair. There was also a dark blue robe and a pair of matching swim trunks.

 

Damien ran a hand over his face. He barely remembered coming back to the house last night. After his meeting with Michael in the bathroom, he’d gone back upstairs to Kenji’s room and drank himself into oblivion, trying to forget the feel of Kenji inside him. He had a hazy memory of Huan and the dancer joining them again at some point and then being poured into the back seat of the limo sometime later.

 

Damien berated himself for being so careless. He could’ve said or done anything to compromise himself and the mission because he wanted to get drunk.

 

He sighed heavily and lay back down against the pillows, closing his eyes. His head pounded and his muscles all had a dull ache to them. And there was that sharp spike, that fleeting urge again, the craving for the euphoria. The multiple consecutive days of drug use were starting to take hold of him and it scared him shitless. He clenched his fists.

 

_Fucking pull yourself together! You’ve got a job to do! You’re a fucking soldier! You’re stronger than this!_

 

He forced himself to ignore the signals his body was sending him. He took a deep, steadying breath, blew it out then opened his eyes and sat up. He paused for a moment, centering himself, then swung his legs over the side of the bed and headed for the shower. He was finally in Kenji’s house, exactly where he needed to be. Time to get down to business and stop this asshole.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Freshly showered, shaved and dressed, Damien headed downstairs a short time later. He stepped off the last stair and looked around, surprised to find the house appeared to be empty. Movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention and he looked toward the front door, where one of Kenji’s bodyguards was coming out of a room. He looked Damien up and down disinterestedly.

 

“Mr. Seng will be gone for several hours,” he told Damien. “You’re to make yourself comfortable.”

 

Damien recognized the voice as the one that had spoken to him when he was at the front gate. That must be the security room he’d stepped out of, where he would monitor the exterior cameras and the gate.

 

Damien nodded and smiled. “I’ll just do that, thanks,” he answered and the bodyguard went back into the room.

 

They must be so used to Kenji’s boy-toys wandering around they considered them part of the furniture and didn’t need watching. Damien would be using that to his advantage.

 

He wandered into the kitchen and made himself a sandwich from what he found in the pantry and the refrigerator, wisely passing up a bottle of beer for a bottle of water. He took his food and sat at the counter with the chairs that faced into the house. He took a bite of the sandwich and found that once again he didn’t have much of an appetite, his stomach protesting slightly. But he continued to take small bites as he wanted to sit at the counter to surreptitiously scan the layout once more, in case the guard came back out. Damien couldn’t afford to be caught snooping around.

 

He needed to figure out a way to hear what was said in Kenji’s meeting room. With the glass, he couldn’t just press himself up against the wall or the door. Actually, if he were anywhere downstairs it might be obvious he was trying to listen in. He looked upstairs to the entertainment area and realized that part of it was situated over the top of the meeting room.

 

Dumping the rest of his mostly uneaten sandwich, he took his bottle of water and climbed up the stairs to the loft. His eyes scanned the area and found a vent for the air conditioning system’s duct work in the floor that appeared to line up with a vent in the ceiling in the meeting room. This looked like the only option he had.

 

With nothing else to do until Kenji came back, he tried watching TV for awhile, noticing that Kenji had an impressive DVD library of gay porn. But it wasn’t long before he found himself becoming restless, his leg bouncing up and down while he sat on the couch, his gaze straying around the room. He picked up a magazine instead but couldn’t concentrate enough to read a full page. His hand trembled when he tossed it back down onto the table and his headache had returned. He looked at his watch and noted it had been a good twelve hours since his last hit of heroin and his body reminded him of that, urging him to take another.

 

Jaw clenched, Damien pulled out his cigarettes, hoping the nicotine would be a substitute for the drug. But after two of them he felt worse, not better, the trembling in his hands more pronounced, the headache pounding behind his eyes. Desperate to distract himself from the withdrawal symptoms he went back to his room and changed into the swim trunks and pulled on the robe. Maybe doing laps would tire him out.

 

It was warm in the pool area but not overly humid and brightly lit from the lights in the room itself and from the skylights above. There were several chairs along one side of the pool along with a few side tables. There was also a hot tub at the far end. Halfway down were sliding glass doors. Curious, Damien walked over and slid them open to find himself in a small patio area with two chairs and a table. Several tall, willowy plants in pots were on either side, providing some shade. The third side of the patio was the wall that surrounded Kenji’s property. Glancing up, Damien realized that because of the foliage this was a potential blind spot for the security cameras. He filed that knowledge away as he stepped back inside, purposely leaving the door unlocked.

 

Damien slipped out of his robe and tossed it on the nearest chair. He walked to the deep end, near the hot tub, took a deep breath and dove into the water. He resurfaced halfway across and started swimming strongly, concentrating only on the movement of his arms and legs, forcing his mind to go blank except for one thought, repeated on an endless loop.

 

_Stay strong…stay strong…stay strong…_

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Damien was still in the pool, his limbs tired and heavy now when Kenji returned home. Damien heard the door open and he stopped swimming, breathing heavily, as Kenji approached. Damien glided over to the side of the pool and pushed himself up and onto the edge, one leg resting on the tile, the other still in the water. Kenji looked up and down his wet body and Damien could see the hunger in his eyes that made his skin crawl. He forced a smile onto his face as Kenji squatted down next to him. Kenji threaded his fingers in Damien’s wet hair and pulled his head back for a hard kiss, his tongue down Damien’s throat. Damien tried not to gag at that bitter taste Kenji left in his mouth.

 

“I’m sorry I left you alone,” Kenji apologized when he ended the kiss, running his hand across Damien’s shoulder. “Business.”

 

“I understand,” Damien replied. “You’re a busy man.”

 

“Still, let me make it up to you,” Kenji said, reaching into his pocket and withdrawing a bag of heroin, which he held out to Damien.

 

Damien felt his whole body react to the sight of the white powder, like Pavlov’s dog, his mantra drifting from his head like the smoke from his cigarette, vanishing into the air. Part of Damien hated himself for being weak, sick to his stomach, as he reached out for the bag, the other part of his mind rationalizing that he _had_ to take it to keep up the role he was playing. Kenji’s smile was smug and pleased as he sat back onto one of the chairs, as Damien poured the powder out onto the small table and inhaled it quickly.

 

Damien coughed and sat back down on the tile floor, closing his eyes and waiting for the rush. Which seemed to overtake him faster this time. Or did it just feel that way because he wasn’t fighting it?

 

“Fuck…” he breathed, laying down on the cool tile as the euphoria raced through his body.

 

His headache vanished, his mind filling with lights and colors and sounds. He looked up to the ceiling where the reflection from the water made patterns that danced and swirled before his eyes. He could feel every drop of water on his body, his skin thrumming as if with a low electrical current, becoming hyper-sensitized again. He brushed his hand down his chest, over a nipple, and groaned at the spike of pure pleasure that flew through him.

 

“That’s it, Damien,” Kenji purred. “Touch yourself. Give me a show…”

 

Damien’s hand continued downward until it encountered the waistband of his swim trunks. The material suddenly chafed against his skin and he pushed the offending piece of clothing down his legs and off. He lay back down and closed his eyes again, letting himself drift in the heroin haze as his hands roamed over his own body.

 

He tugged on his nipple again, rolling it between his fingers until it hardened into a small nub. He groaned once more as the intense sensation shot straight down to his cock. He cupped his balls with his other hand, rolling their hefty weight in his palm, tugging slightly, feeling his cock harden. He took himself in hand then, stroking himself to complete erection in a matter of moments, his head spinning with the heightened arousal the heroin gave him. He pumped his cock quickly, his heart pounding as he felt his climax surging up through him, faster than ever. His cock released a burst of precome and he moaned at the feel of the wetness. He squeezed his eyes shut harder and arched his back, tugging again on his nipple. It was the final stimulation he needed and he cried out sharply as he came, his cock pulsing, surging in his hand, coating his chest with his release.

 

He panted so hard he made himself lightheaded and felt as if every nerve ending in his body was on fire. He opened his eyes when he felt a hand on the side of his face. Kenji looked down at him, eyes dark and still full of hunger. He cupped Damien’s chin in his hand.

 

“Oh Damien, you’re going to please me for a long time to come, I can tell,” he said, satisfaction coloring his voice. He ran a finger down Damien’s chest and through the thick white strands of semen. “Now go and get yourself cleaned up. My tailor will be here shortly. It’s time you had a better wardrobe. Even though I much prefer you like this,” he smirked.

 

Then he was gone, leaving Damien lying there, too high to be disgusted with himself.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Damien was still buzzing when Kenji’s tailor arrived, bringing with him several shirts and pairs of pants to hold Damien over until the custom fitted outfits were complete. The small old man was quick and efficient, jotting down Damien’s measurements in a well-used notebook. When he was finished he bowed to Kenji and told him he would have two outfits finished by the next afternoon, the rest by the end of the week.

 

As the tailor walked toward the front door it opened to admit five Asian men, all dressed in black suits and white shirts, along with Huan Lei. Kenji turned to Damien and handed him the shirts and pants.

 

“I have business to attend to. Why don’t you go upstairs and change and amuse yourself? We’ll be going out to dinner and then to the club when I’m through here.”

 

Damien took the clothing. “Thank you for these.”

 

Kenji’s smile was oily. He reached out and cupped Damien through his cargo pants, squeezing. “You can repay me later.”

 

He released Damien and turned to the men as they greeted him, bowing one by one, and Damien went quickly up the stairs, watching as everyone filed into the meeting room. Anxious to overhear what was taking place, he undressed swiftly and threw on a dark maroon silk shirt and a pair of black trousers, pushing through the lethargy that threatened to overtake him as he crashed down from the heroin high.

 

Once dressed, he walked as casually as he could across to the entertainment area, glancing downstairs, noticing that two of Kenji’s bodyguards were standing outside the meeting room but neither of them paid him any attention. He turned on the TV with the volume low and then moved over to the vent in the floor. To his relief, he was able to make out what they were saying without too much difficulty. But to his disappointment, as he listened, it was apparent this meeting had nothing to do with arms dealing. The men in suits were Kenji’s Triad lieutenants, each reporting in on drugs, gambling, and extortion, each handing over a bag with what Damien assumed was money from each ‘enterprise’.

 

Damien blew out a frustrated breath as the meeting broke up. Fuck. He ran a shaking hand over his face. He wanted this mission to be over. _Needed_ this mission to be over. Before he went so far he couldn’t find his way back.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Kenji took him shopping later that day. They left Chinatown and headed into the heart of Kuala Lumpur, where they went from one high-end store to another, Kenji showing off Damien as his new plaything, buying him shiny things. There were cufflinks and a tie clip purchased for the suits that would be arriving for Damien the next day. Damien smiled and nodded and thanked Kenji for his generosity, continuing to play his part.

 

The last stop was another jewelry store specializing in gem studded watches. This time, it was Kenji looking to buy something for himself, so Damien wandered the store, looking disinterestedly in the cases as Kenji made his selection.

 

“Damien. Come here.”

 

Kenji’s voice caught Damien’s attention and he went to stand next to him. There were three watches laid out on the counter, on black velvet.

 

“Pick one,” Kenji told him, smiling. “We can’t have you wearing that beat up thing with your new clothes,” he said, pointing at the watch on Damien’s wrist.

 

“No,” Damien said quickly and Kenji narrowed his eyes.

 

Damien’s heart skipped a beat. He couldn’t relinquish the watch with the GPS tracker in it, his only lifeline to Section 20. He needed to think fast.

 

“It was a gift from my mother,” Damien explained. “She gave it to me on my twenty-first birthday. She died that year. It’s special to me. I’d like to keep it if that’s okay.”

 

Damien had recalled from Kenji’s file that he had been close to his mother when he was a child and that she had died from cancer when he was still a teenager. He hoped to pull on whatever heartstrings this man might have.

 

Kenji’s expression relaxed and he nodded. “You honor your mother. I’m pleased by that. Yes, of course you may keep the watch.”

 

Damien released a slow breath. “Maybe a bracelet or necklace instead?”

 

Kenji swept a hand out, indicating the display cases. “Choose what you like.”

 

Damien chose a simple gold chain that Kenji insisted on putting on him. As the cold metal settled around his neck it felt less like a necklace and more like a collar. With Kenji holding the leash.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Damien warred with himself on the limo ride to Club Almari that night. On one hand he was desperate to see Michael. He needed his partner’s strong, reassuring presence to ground him, focus him, as he felt himself spiraling out of control more and more with each passing day. But on the other hand, he was loathe for Michael to see him like this – strung out and afraid that Michael would be able to tell everything that had transpired between him and Kenji and be disgusted. Damien closed his eyes and clenched his jaw. How the hell were they supposed to make it back from this when it was all over? Fuck Locke for doing this to him. To them.

 

When the limo pulled up to the curb in front of the club, Damien’s decision was taken from him as the front doors flew open and Michael came barreling out. He pushed a man ahead of him, one hand firmly on the back of the man’s neck, the other on his arm, which was bent up painfully behind his back. Michael gave the man a shove and he went stumbling off the curb onto the street, where he made a hasty retreat.

 

Kenji smiled as he stepped from the limo. “Problem, Michael?”

 

“Not anymore, sir,” Michael replied.

 

Kenji clapped him on the shoulder. “Good, good.”

 

“Enjoy your evening, sir,” Michael said as Kenji walked past him inside. “Damien,” Michael acknowledged politely as Damien emerged from the limo.

 

Damien nodded quickly then averted his face from his partner, not wanting Michael to get a good look at him, just glimpsing Michael’s furrowed brow as he went into the club, Huan following close behind him.

 

They didn’t head straight upstairs this time, Kenji instead making a circuit around the main floor, stopping to talk to several people, showing off Damien like his shiny new toy. Damien smiled indulgently, his skin crawling as the men undressed him with their eyes. Show-and-tell finally over, Kenji led everyone upstairs, Huan having snagged the same dancer Damien had seen him with that first time. The guard at Kenji’s room nodded and opened the door for them. The guard in the back of the room was just pulling out the decanter of whiskey and several tumblers. Huan set the familiar black box onto the table then tossed the dancer down onto one of the couches with a laugh and climbed on top of him. Kenji spun Damien around to face him, pulled him up against his body possessively.

 

“Did you see them, Damien?” he asked, voice low, hands roaming over Damien’s back and ass. “How much they wanted you?”

 

Damien nodded, feeling Kenji’s cock start to harden against his groin, Kenji once again getting off on the power of being in control.

 

“Did you want _them_?” Kenji’s eyes narrowed.

 

Damien swallowed and shook his head. “No. Only you,” he lied.

 

Kenji kissed him hard then, plundering his mouth, continuing to grope Damien until he finally stepped back and pushed Damien down onto the couch. Kenji reached for the button on Damien’s pants when Huan called out to him.

 

“Kenji! How about a wager tonight? It’s been awhile. The other one was too used up. It wasn’t a fair competition anymore.” He nodded at Damien. “But this one is still fresh,” he smirked.

 

Kenji chuckled. “You’re sounding confident, Huan.”

 

Huan smiled and looked down at the dancer. “He’s my favorite. I know what he can do. And he’s already flying and ready to go. Why don’t you get your boy primed, too?”

 

“I shall enjoy taking your money, my friend!” Kenji laughed, then turned and sat next to Damien on the couch.

 

He pulled the box of drugs toward them and Damien’s stomach turned in both anticipation and dread. He’d barely had time to come down from his high this afternoon. He had no idea what taking two doses so close together would do to him. But goddamn it, his body fucking wanted it, betraying him by starting to shake when Kenji withdrew the small bag. Kenji held it out but when Damien reached for it he withdrew it, grasping Damien’s chin with his other hand. He pressed until Damien’s jaw opened and he ran his thumb across Damien’s lower lip.

 

“Time to show me what this beautiful mouth of yours can do, Damien. If you don’t get me off before Huan I will be very unhappy with you.” He held up the bag of drugs then closed his hand around it. “And if I’m not happy, _you’re_ not happy,” he said, his meaning perfectly clear.

 

Damien put on a smile and ran his hands up Kenji’s legs. “I won’t let you down.”

 

“I know you won’t.” He squeezed Damien’s chin. “I don’t like to lose. Don’t forget that.” And with that he finally tossed the small bag of powder onto the table.

 

Damien snatched it up, already feeling his body start to respond to the thought of getting high, a part of his brain cursing himself for his weakness. As Damien poured out the powder, Kenji took out his own case. As Damien inhaled, Kenji shot up. Within minutes, Damien was once again wrapped in the euphoria of the high, his body singing with it.

 

Kenji spread his legs and Damien crawled between them, reaching for the button and zipper on Kenji’s pants as Kenji dropped a condom on the couch next to him. Kenji stroked himself to hardness as Damien opened the packet.

 

“Ready, Kenji?” Huan called over.

 

Damien spared a glance behind him, seeing the dancer already on his knees, rolling a condom down Huan’s cock. Damien turned back and did the same to Kenji’s.

 

“May the best man win,” Kenji smirked, then pushed Damien’s head down.

 

Damien nearly gagged as Kenji’s cock was practically forced down his throat. He had no choice but to start stroking with one hand, sucking at the same time, the feel of Kenji’s length foreign and unwelcome against his tongue. He wanted to just block everything out and let his mind drift into the heroin haze but he knew he had to perform or suffer the consequences. So once again he forced a small part of his mind into a memory with Michael.

 

Damien had no problem admitting he was fascinated with Michael’s uncut cock, so different from his own. He loved stroking Michael, watching as the head would appear and disappear, playing with the foreskin, drawing it down slowly to expose the head, then sucking on it hungrily. He couldn’t get enough of Michael’s taste, from his warm, smooth skin to the slight sweetness of his precome to the more salty taste of his semen.

 

It was his favorite way to wake Michael in the morning, sliding down under the sheets, breathing in Michael’s warm, musky scent as he moved down his body. He would take Michael’s flaccid cock in his mouth and start sucking gently, sliding his tongue around the foreskin. Michael would always pull in a breath as he woke from the oral stimulation, his hand coming to rest on Damien’s head, fingers rubbing, encouraging Damien to continue. And Damien would, feeling his own body respond as Michael hardened and lengthened against his tongue. He sucked harder, humming around Michael’s thick cock. Michael’s deep groan at the sensation reverberated all the way through Damien and he lapped at the burst of precome leaking from the slit. He started stroking then, sliding the foreskin up and down, feeling Michael’s grip on his head tighten, his hips trying to push upwards. He pressed his tongue hard against the bundle of nerves on the underside of the head and Michael’s body jerked, his back arching, mouth falling open in pleasure, moments away from coming. Damien opened his mouth wide and relaxed his throat, taking Michael in as far as he could and contracted his muscles around his hard cock, swallowing, sucking…then Michael was coming with a sharp cry. Damien felt his cock pulse hard against his tongue and he waited for the warm splash of Michael’s release…which never came.

 

Kenji’s hands shoved Damien back, throwing him out of his memory. Dizzy and disorientated, Damien sat back on his heels and watched as Kenji stripped off the condom an instant before he came with a triumphant shout, coating his hand and stomach in thick, white fluid. Kenji laughed at Huan’s groan of frustration, the dancer taking another few moments to get him off.

 

As Kenji shouted to Huan to pay up, Damien rose unsteadily to his feet and staggered over to the bar where swallowed down as much whiskey as he could, trying to get the taste of the latex and the feel of Kenji out of his mouth.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Thirty minutes after Kenji and Damien arrived, Michael finally saw the door to Seng’s room open and Damien stepped out. He watched, concerned, as his partner took a moment to steady himself against the balcony railing before walking slowly to the stairs. Jaw clenched, Michael headed toward the bathroom for their meet up.

 

As before, Michael lingered at the sinks until Damien came in and went into a stall. It took longer this time for the bathroom to clear out before Michael could join him. Damien was once again pressed between the wall and the toilet and Michael was even more taken aback at his appearance than yesterday.

 

“Christ…” he swore.

 

Damien’s face was drawn and haggard. There were dark smudges beneath his eyes, which darted from side to side, their pupils pinpricks. His whole body seemed to be vibrating, his leg bouncing up and down and he didn’t seem to know what to do with his hands, stuffing them in his pockets, then crossing his arms over his chest. Michael’s chest tightened as if in a vise and he could barely breathe, his vision blurred red with anger at the drug addict his partner was fast becoming. He ached to reach out and touch Damien but he knew the advance would be rebuked again so he simply clenched his fists at his side.

 

“Damien…” he said softly, trying to get his partner to look at him.

 

Damien blinked several times and Michael could see him struggling to focus before looking steadily at Michael.

 

“Mike?”

 

Michael blew out a breath. “Yeah, mate, it’s me. Talk to me.”

 

Damien shrugged and looked away, his pale face suddenly flushing. “Not much to say,” he answered and Michael instantly knew he was lying. And _what_ he was lying about. He felt the bile rise in his throat and swallowed it down.

 

“The only thing I’ve seen is a meeting with his lieutenants. Nothing about the arms dealing yet,” Damien continued, voice low.

 

“Shit,” Michael swore, running a hand over his face. He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a USB drive and a slim lock pick kit, both of which he handed over to Damien. “Richmond put a password decryption program on there that will automatically activate when you plug it into his computer, in case he’s got things locked down.”

 

Damien nodded and slipped both items into his pants pocket. “I’m hoping to break into his office tomorrow sometime.”

 

“Good. Let’s hope we get what we need from the computer and you can get the fuck out of there.”

 

“Speaking of getting out, please tell me you picked up Jason and he’s on his way home.”

 

This time it was Michael’s turn to glance away. He’d been hoping Damien wouldn’t ask about the young American. Damien reached out and gripped his arm and Michael looked back at him.

 

“Mike? What is it?” Damien asked, apprehension in his voice.

 

“Damien…I’m so sorry,” Michael began. “Before I could get Richmond and Martinez on it the police found Jason’s body in an alley a couple miles from here. He’d been shot in the head. Time of death was shortly after he was dragged out of here. It had to be Huan.”

 

Damien’s face contorted in anger and fury and before Michael could stop him, he’d turned and punched the wall of the stall. Michael quickly reached out and grabbed his partner’s wrists before he could do it again.

 

“Kenji’s the one that ordered it,” Damien growled. “I’m going to kill him, Mike. I swear to God I’m going to fucking kill him.”

 

“You’ll get your chance, mate, you will,” Michael told him forcefully. “Just not now. Promise me you won’t do anything stupid.”

 

Damien blew out an angry breath and shook his head. Michael gripped his wrists tighter. “Goddamn it, Damien! Don’t make me find _your_ body in an alley!” Michael’s voice broke and Damien stilled.

 

“I’m sorry, Mike. You’re right,” he said quietly. “You’ve got my word.”

 

“There’s a bullet with his name on it. I’ll keep it for you.”

 

Damien’s mouth tightened and his eyes narrowed. He gave Michael a curt nod and then he moved past him, leaving the bathroom. Once again Michael watched him go, hoping there wasn’t also a bullet out there with Damien’s name on it.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

The news of Jason’s death – his murder – effectively cut through Damien’s heroin high like a knife, his blood now thrumming with anger instead of euphoria. He paused outside the bathroom. Despite his promise to Michael, he was afraid he’d tear Kenji’s head from his shoulders if he went upstairs right now. Instead, he headed to the bar, needing a few minutes to clear his head and cool down before putting on his game face for Kenji.

 

He ordered two shots of whiskey right off the bat. He downed the first quickly then paused, just staring down at the second glass of amber liquid. He was aware of someone sidling up next to him and giving him sideways glances, but studiously ignored the other man, lost in his thoughts. Until the other man put his hand on Damien’s arm. Damien quickly looked over, intending to tell the guy to fuck off.

 

He was another American, around Damien’s age. He wore a t-shirt with the Chicago Cubs logo and a pair of jean shorts and flip-flops. His short brown hair fell over his forehead and he pushed it back with his other hand. His face was open and friendly, smiling at Damien.

 

“Excuse me,” the man said. “I seem to have lost my phone number. Can I borrow yours?”

 

And despite everything, Damien laughed at the ridiculous pick up line.

 

“Does that actually work for you?” he asked with a grin.

 

The man shrugged, still smiling, giving Damien’s arm a small squeeze. “You tell me.”

 

Damien laughed again. “I’m flattered, truly. And normally we’d be heading to one of those alcoves back there. But I’m spoken for, sorry.”

 

The man gave a disappointed sigh, but he was still smiling. “Well, you can’t blame a guy for trying.” Then he leaned in close and whispered in Damien’s ear. “I don’t see anyone who might be doing that speaking, so if you change your mind…” he trailed off then leaned back with a wink.

 

Damien chuckled and slid his shot of whiskey over to the man. “At least let me buy you a drink. You made me smile for the first time in a long time.” He patted the guy on the arm and pushed off from the bar, heading toward the stairs.

 

When he reached the second floor he was surprised to see Kenji standing at the balcony railing, looking down. Had he been watching him and the guy at the bar? He lifted his head when Damien approached and his expression was carefully neutral. _Too_ neutral. And it made the hairs on the back of Damien’s neck stand up. Without a word Kenji turned and went back inside the room, Damien following.

 

The door had no more than closed behind them when Kenji spun around and backhanded Damien viciously across his face. Caught off guard, Damien staggered back a step, tasting blood in his mouth. Instinctively, every muscle in his body tensed, ready to spring forward. His fists were raising when he caught himself, remembered the role he was playing and unclenched his hands. Kenji dug his fingers into Damien’s short hair and pulled sharply, bending Damien’s neck back.

 

“You belong to ME,” Kenji spat, his expression now one of fury. “Was I not clear about that?” He pulled on Damien’s hair again and Damien winced. Kenji let go then and wiped the blood from Damien’s lower lip. “I don’t want to hurt you, Damien. You told me you understood I was the one in charge. Have you forgotten?”

 

Damien swallowed down his anger and lowered his eyes. “No. I know my place,” he told Kenji, false apology in his voice. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

 

Kenji unzipped his pants. “Show me how sorry you are. Show me why I should keep you around and not throw you out onto the street.”

 

Damien dropped to his knees.


	6. CHAPTER SIX

## CHAPTER SIX

 

 

Withdrawal hit Damien hard the next morning. Two hits so close together yesterday and then nothing for the past seven hours or so while he slept. He woke drenched in a cold sweat, shaking, his head pounding. His stomach rolled and he barely made it to the bathroom in time, vomiting repeatedly until he was dry heaving, nothing left in his stomach. He sat back heavily against the bathtub, shaking harder now, every muscle in his body aching. He lashed out in anger and frustration, slamming his fist against the wall, cursing himself. He thought he was so much stronger than this.

 

He squeezed his eyes shut and pretended the single tear that escaped was simply the sweat running down his face.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Damien finally made it downstairs twenty-five minutes later. He had eventually summoned up enough energy to drag himself into the shower. The scalding hot water washed away the sweat and helped to ease the ache in his muscles. But it hadn’t done much for his headache, which still throbbed against his temples. It was hard for him to string two thoughts together, as if his head was filled with a dense fog of his cigarette smoke. And he was so tired, his body exhausted from the constant highs and lows over so many days. He couldn’t function like this, especially today, when he needed to be on his game and break into Kenji’s office. He was filled with self-loathing at the prospect of having to _ask_ Kenji for the heroin today. But he needed that rush to wake him up. It was a double-edged sword, though, he knew that, too, just as easy for him to slip up while under the influence. But it was a risk he was willing to take if getting the information off Kenji’s computer meant the end to this mission.

 

He sat at the kitchen counter, nursing a bottle of water, his stomach protesting at the thought of food when Kenji came around the corner. He walked up to Damien and took his chin in his hand, turning the right side of Damien’s face toward him. Kenji frowned at the vivid bruise on Damien’s cheek, along with the small cut made from his ring. He released Damien’s chin, still frowning.

 

“I hope you learned your lesson,” he said, voice hard, then turned and started to walk away.

 

“Kenji, I—“ Damien called after him.

 

“What is it?” Kenji snapped, stopping to look back at Damien.

 

Damien gritted his teeth and then forced the next words out of his mouth.

 

“I’m not feeling very well. I was hoping I could have something…” he trailed off.

 

Kenji crossed his arms over his chest. “You displeased me last night, Damien. Why should I encourage that behavior by giving you what you want?”

 

“I—“ Damien struggled to find an answer, then remembered something. “I never asked for my reward for warning you about Jason,” he replied.

 

Kenji’s eyebrows rose in surprise and he nodded slowly. “Very well. I’m an honorable man and do not go back on my word.” He leaned forward, his eyes cold and calculating. “However, do _not_ test me, Damien.”

 

Damien lowered his eyes obediently, seething inside at once again having to play the submissive.

 

Kenji might think himself honorable, but he was also cruel. He made Damien wait for over an hour before he tossed the bag of heroin at him.

 

“I have business to attend to. Go upstairs,” Kenji said curtly, dismissing Damien, just as the front door opened and four of his lieutenants walked in, the same men from the other day.

 

Damien went quickly up the stairs and directly to his room. This was the opportunity he needed to break into Kenji’s office, while he was occupied. He retrieved the USB drive and the lock pick kit from where he’d hidden them and put them in his pockets. He hesitated then, looking down at the bag of powder lying on the dresser. Every fiber of his being screamed at him not to take it, even though his body vibrated with the need. Another moment’s pause and he reached for the bag. He _had_ to cut through this fog in his mind and stop his hands from shaking, he rationalized as he poured some of the powder onto the dresser. But just half this time. Just enough for a jolt. He inhaled quickly then stashed the rest of the drugs before sitting down on the bed to wait impatiently for the high.

 

He felt it the moment it started, his whole body relaxing, but energized at the same time. The pounding in his head started to ease, along with the tremors in his hands. He rose from the bed and went quietly out into the hallway, making sure he was alone upstairs before heading to the door of Kenji’s office.

 

The heroin slowed his movements so it took him longer than it should to pick the lock and gain entrance. Once inside he shut the door softly behind him and went directly to the computer sitting on the desk. It was on, but as expected, was waiting for a password. Damien inserted the USB drive and a moment later the decryption program started.

 

“Come on, come on,” Damien murmured, willing it to go faster as he glanced nervously toward the door.

 

A soft chime from the computer drew his attention back and he watched as the correct password appeared and then he was looking at the desktop screen.

 

“Fuck yeah,” Damien grinned. He began copying everything he could find. Some files were in Chinese, some in English. He saw schematics of weapons and spreadsheets with what could be delivery schedules.

 

He wavered a bit as the heroin started to take more of a hold on him and he put a hand on the desk to steady himself. He shook his head. Just a little longer, just a little longer. He could do this.

 

By the time he had copied all that he could, his heart hammered in his chest and he was starting to sweat, both from the drugs and at the prospect of being discovered. He pulled out the USB drive and put the computer back to the password screen. He moved back over to the door and opened it a hair’s breadth. Seeing the hallway was clear he stepped out into it, locking the door behind him. He started back toward his room when voices from downstairs caught his attention. He crept silently down the stairs, his back pressed up against the wall, stopping halfway. He watched as the lieutenants left, leaving just Huan and Kenji. Kenji’s phone rang then and Damien could just make out that he was confirming a meeting time. He hung up with a wide smile and clapped Huan on the shoulder.

 

“Saeed will be here in two hours.”

 

Huan nodded and smiled. “And the merchandise?”

 

“Provided everything goes well with Saeed today, we fly out tonight.”

 

Damien blinked. Saeed. That must be his Moro contact. Kenji _had_ to be talking about the arms deal. Damien looked down at his watch. Perhaps in two hours this whole mission would finally be over.

 

He turned to go back upstairs when he heard the front door open again. He saw Kenji’s face change from pleased to cold fury in the space of a heartbeat. Damien watched as Kenji’s bodyguards marched a man between them. Damien recognized him as the fifth lieutenant and wondered why he hadn’t been with the other four. The man stood tall with a bland expression on his face, but Damien could see the fear in his eyes. Without a word Kenji pointed to the meeting room and the bodyguards led the man, with Kenji and Huan following.

 

Curious, Damien walked down the rest of the stairs and carefully peered around the wall. He saw Huan shove the man down onto one of the chairs as Kenji snapped his fingers at one of the bodyguards, who then passed Kenji his handgun. Damien drew in a breath at the sight of the weapon, his fingers digging into the wall.

 

The glass muffled the sound somewhat but Damien could make out most of what was being said.

 

The man had dropped his disaffected persona and was now holding his hands out toward Kenji, pleading. “Mr. Seng –“ he started, voice shaking.

 

“ _Skimming_ from me, Quon?” Kenji cut him off. “You truly thought I’d never find out?”

 

The man started shaking his head rapidly. “I’m sorry, Mr. Seng. It won’t –“

 

Before the man could finish his sentence, Kenji raised the gun and fired point-blank at the man’s chest, crimson red blood spraying everywhere.

 

The gunshot was incredibly loud and Damien startled, jaw dropping at the cold-blooded killing he’d just witnessed. “Fuck…” he breathed.

 

Kenji handed the gun back to the bodyguard. “Clean it up,” he ordered and all Damien could think was this was why everything in the house was glass and tile – easy to wipe away the blood.

 

Kenji turned to leave the room, spurring Damien into action. He hurried up the stairs, still trying to process the violence this man was capable of, strengthening his resolve to use that bullet on him that Michael was holding for him.

 

He made it to his room and closed the door behind him, taking a long, deep steadying breath. Even if he’d been in his room there’s no way he couldn’t have heard the gunshot, so he needed to act appropriately. He stashed the USB drive and lock pick kit and opened his door, just as Kenji came up the steps.

 

Damien met him at the top of the stairs. “What was that? Is everything okay?”

 

Kenji put his hands on Damien’s chest and Damien could see a fine spray of blood on Kenji’s shirt front. “Nothing for you to worry about,” Kenji said smoothly. “But I need you to stay up here.” He turned Damien around, back toward his room. “Your new clothes will be here shortly. I’ll have them sent up. Pick out a suit. We’ll be celebrating tonight,” he told Damien with a smile. “I’m about to finalize the biggest deal of my life.”

 

“Congratulations,” Damien forced himself to say, nearly choking on the words. _And if I have anything to say about it this will be the last deal you ever make, asshole._

~*~*~*~*~*~

Two hours later Damien was upstairs in the entertainment room, idly playing a game of pool by himself when the front door opened for the third time that day. With the pretense of walking around the pool table to line up his next shot, Damien turned to look over the loft balcony to see who had arrived. It was two men, dressed in light colored suits, which offset their darker skin and hair. They each nodded to Kenji, who addressed them both in turn.

 

“Mr. Saeed, Mr. Ahmadi. Welcome.” Kenji indicated with his hand toward the meeting room. “Shall we?”

 

As Kenji led them to the room, now spotlessly clean, Damien felt his heart start to beat faster, his muscles suddenly taught with tension. This was it. The meeting he’d been waiting for. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Kenji, Saeed, Ahmadi, Huan and the bodyguards all went into the meeting room and closed the door behind them. Damien instantly set down his pool cue and went over to the vent to listen in.

 

What he heard over the next twenty minutes floored him. After pleasantries and small talk was exchanged the men got down to business. And the business was weapons. Lots of them. Damien listened to what could have been two men ordering off a menu at a restaurant, choosing how many AK-47 and Kalashnikov assault rifles, semi-automatic handguns and magazines of ammunition, plus hand grenades and blocks of C4 explosives. All standard terrorist weapons.

 

But it was the next “order” that chilled Damien to the bone – rocket-propelled grenade launchers, claymore mines, mortars and surface-to-air missiles.

 

Damien sat back, stunned. This was so much bigger than Section 20 thought. Kenji was definitely running with the big boys now, getting into arms dealing of this magnitude. Damien knew, now more than ever, that this maniac had to be stopped before more innocent people were killed.

 

Damien leaned over again, listening intently for the name of Kenji’s supplier, and where and when Saeed and Ahmadi would be taking delivery of the weapons. But maddeningly, none of that was discussed. The meeting ended with Kenji promising to contact Saeed tomorrow with the delivery details. Frustrated, Damien stood and went back over to the pool table, all smiles when Kenji joined him a short time later.

 

Without a word Kenji stepped up close to Damien, threaded his fingers through Damien’s dark hair, pulling slightly, and kissed him hard and deep, his other hand cupping Damien’s ass, squeezing. When he finally moved back Damien noticed his expression looked exactly like when he was high.

 

“I take it your meeting went well?” Damien asked.

 

Kenji brushed his thumb over Damien’s lower lip. “Indeed,” Kenji answered. “Better than I’d hoped, actually.” He squeezed Damien’s ass again. “Go get dressed. Time to celebrate. Dinner and then the club.” He turned and walked away, calling over his shoulder with a wide smile. “Hope you like champagne because I’ll be licking it off your body tonight.” He laughed and winked and Damien’s skin crawled even as he grinned in return.

 

As soon as Kenji was out of sight Damien’s expression hardened, his jaw clenching.

 

_You deal in death and smile about it, you son-of-a-bitch. You won’t be smiling soon. I fucking guarantee it._

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Damien leaned his head back against the seat in the limo, briefly closing his eyes as fatigue settled over him like a blanket. His half a hit of heroin had long since worn off. His muscles felt like lead and his hands had started to tremor halfway through dinner. Which had been a long and laborious affair, at least for him. Kenji, himself and Huan had gone to an expensive Italian restaurant on the 57th floor in one of the Petronas Towers in downtown Kuala Lumpur.

 

Kenji and Huan were in high spirits and seemed to order one of everything on the menu, plus copious amounts of alcohol, toasting to the successful deal they'd just brokered. Damien had forced a smile on his face and food in his mouth, all the while restraining himself from cutting both their throats with his steak knife.

 

And now he was exhausted, crashing down. All he wanted to do was get to the club, meet with Michael and pass along the USB drive, which was currently stuffed in his shoe, along with the rest of the intel he'd gathered that afternoon. He thought he could see the light at the end of the tunnel behind his eyelids.

 

A minute later he stumbled from the limo behind Kenji and Huan, running his hands over his steel gray suit jacket and pants, trying to smooth away the wrinkles. He pulled at the collar of his white dress shirt, feeling the gold chain sitting heavy against his neck.

 

Michael was not stationed at the front doors, nor could Damien see him patrolling the dance floor or bar area. So he shouldn't have been surprised to see him standing at the door to Kenji's room but his stomach still sank. This was too close for comfort. He didn't want Michael seeing anything that transpired between him and Kenji in that room.

 

"Michael!" Kenji greeted him with a smile and a clap on his shoulder. "We're celebrating tonight. Please have many bottles of champagne sent up," he laughed.

 

"Of course, sir, right away," Michael replied, opening the door.

 

Kenji entered first, followed by Huan, who had snagged _two_ dancers tonight, his arms around their waists, and then finally Damien. Unfortunately, Michael stood on Damien's right side, so there was no way that he wouldn't see the bruise and cut on Damien's cheek. Sure enough, Michael's eyes hardened and his mouth compressed into a tight line as Damien made brief eye contact with him before walking inside the room, just brushing Michael's hand with his fingers as he passed.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Huan turned the music up in the room as soon as the door closed behind them and the dancers started putting on a show for everyone. Kenji didn’t waste any time with his own form of entertainment, setting down the familiar black box and removing his case. Damien’s mouth went dry at the sight of the little bags of white powder and he tried to look away. But the pull was too great, his body once again demanding the rush. His expression must’ve given away his need, for Kenji laughed, and Damien knew he was pleased once again with what he’d turned Damien into, and tossed him the heroin. Disgusted with himself once again, Damien inhaled the powder as Kenji sat back and injected himself.

 

Then Kenji was all over Damien, kissing him hard, taking off Damien’s suit jacket and shirt, pushing him down on the couch and unzipping his pants. He’d just started groping Damien through his briefs when the door to the room opened and in walked Michael, carrying three bottles of chilled champagne and several glasses on a tray.

 

Damien felt sick as soon as Michael spied him, half naked with Kenji on top of him, his hand down Damien’s pants, and he quickly looked away, but not before he saw the sharp flash of pain in Michael’s eyes.

 

“Excellent!” Kenji smiled, rising up slightly from Damien’s body. “Just put them here on the table, Michael,” he instructed, then turned back to Damien, reaching for his waistband.

 

“Shall I open one for you, sir?”

 

Damien’s stomach churned at Michael’s question as Kenji started to pull down Damien’s pants.

 

_Get out Michael, get out_ he pleaded internally, wanting him gone before he saw any more of Damien’s humiliation.

 

“Thank you, Michael, yes,” Kenji answered and Damien’s heart sank.

 

Kenji had Damien’s pants pushed down past his knees and was straddling Damien’s thighs when the cork popped on the champagne bottle. Huan let out a little whoop and reached for the glasses as Kenji took the bottle from Michael. He took a long swallow and then turned his attention back to Damien, calling over his shoulder.

 

“No glass for me, Huan. I have something better to drink mine from,” he smirked.

 

Then the champagne splashed down on Damien’s chest, cool against his skin just as Michael’s gaze burned him.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

By the time the door to Seng’s room opened again an hour later, Michael’s muscles were so rigid with anger he could barely move to step aside as Kenji and his entourage emerged.

 

Up until tonight, Michael had only had Damien’s vague mentions of what transpired between himself and Seng. But now he’d seen it for himself – what Damien was willingly putting himself through for the sake of the mission. The expression on Damien’s face tore at him, his heart seizing up in his chest at the humiliation he saw there, and that Michael was witness to it. Fury burned through Michael’s veins and it took every ounce of self-control he had to not to break Seng’s neck right then and there. And again right now as Kenji stepped out and then turned to address him as Huan, the dancers and the other security guard filed past them, headed downstairs.

 

“Michael, I’m taking the limo. Please see to it that Damien gets back to the house.”

 

Michael unclenched his fists and swallowed. “Of course,” he answered, forcing a small smile on his face, which disappeared the instant Seng turned his back and walked away.

 

Michael couldn’t get back in the room fast enough, but what he saw stopped him dead in his tracks.

 

“Oh, Christ…” he breathed, closing the door behind him.

 

Damien lay face down on one of the couches, completely naked except for a gold chain around his neck. There were red marks on his back and near his hips, obviously made from Kenji’s hands and fingers. He could see where Damien’s skin was wet and sticky from the champagne Kenji had poured over him. Damien’s clothes were scattered on the floor, along with two of the empty champagne bottles…and a used condom.

 

Concern for Damien overrode his anger and disgust and he pushed those feelings aside as he crossed the room quickly and dropped down beside his partner. Damien was breathing hard, his blue eyes glassy with pinprick pupils, caught in the grips of another heroin high.

 

Michael swallowed hard. “Damien…mate…can you hear me?” he asked quietly, reaching out and resting a hand on Damien’s bare shoulder.

 

Damien’s reaction was immediate and explosive.

 

“No!” he yelled, knocking Michael’s hand away and scrabbling backward on the couch, as far away from Michael as he could get, curling in on himself. “Get out, Mike! Get out!”

 

Michael shook his head, moving down toward his distraught partner. “No…Damien…”

 

“I don’t want you to see me like this! Get out!” he pleaded, voice breaking.

 

Michael felt angry tears flood his vision at the anguish in Damien’s voice. He reached out to lay a hand on Damien’s bare leg.

 

“Don’t touch me!” Damien yelled, striking out.

 

His swing was clumsy but it caught Michael unaware and he managed to clip Michael on his jaw before he could get out of the way, and Michael tipped sideways back against the table.

 

“Oh, God…” Damien breathed. “I’m sorry…I’m so sorry, Mike. I didn’t mean…” he rambled, reaching out for Michael.

 

“It’s okay,” Michael reassured him. “I know. This isn’t you.”

 

And it wasn’t. Michael knew the heroin was responsible for Damien’s erratic behavior and wild emotional swings.

 

Damien grabbed two fistfuls of Michael’s t-shirt and pulled him close, resting his head on Michael’s shoulder. “Don’t go, Mike…don’t go…” he panted.

 

Michael wrapped his arms around his partner, his chest tight with anger and frustration. “I don’t want to. But Seng wants me to get you back to the house. He’s going to start wondering where you are,” he said, though he was loathe to just drop his partner at the curb in the condition he was in.

 

Damien raised his head, shaking it. “He’s going to the airport. Flying out to Jakarta tonight. He won’t be back until sometime late tomorrow afternoon.” Damien pinned him with desperate eyes. “I wanna stay with you tonight.”

 

There was nothing Michael wanted more but he had to shake his head. He knew it was the drugs talking and Damien wasn’t thinking straight. “You can’t. It’s too risky. How will you explain to Seng tomorrow where you were when you show up at the house?”

 

Damien squeezed his eyes shut and Michael knew he was trying to fight against the heroin. “I’ve…I’ve got an idea,” he said after a moment, opening his eyes again. “It’ll work.”

 

But Michael wasn’t convinced and started to shake his head again. Damien tightened his hold on Michael’s shirt, his voice strained and pleading.

 

“I need you, Mike. _Please_ …”

 

Michael knew this was a bad idea. They could be compromising the entire mission if he said yes. But looking at his partner huddled on the couch, naked, strung out and at an emotional breaking point – Michael knew he had to take the risk.

 

“Okay,” he finally said and Damien sagged against him. “Can you get dressed?”

 

Damien raised up and nodded sluggishly, reaching for his clothes that Michael started handing him.

 

A few minutes later he was dressed and Michael helped him out the door, Damien swaying slightly as he walked. When they got downstairs to the front door Michael informed the guard on duty that Mr. Seng wanted him to personally see that his guest Damien arrived home safely, then put them both in a taxi. Michael had the driver initially head in the direction of Seng’s house to keep up appearances, but then circle back around on another block and drop them off at the hotel.

 

It took effort to get Damien out of the car and upstairs to Michael’s room, his partner fading fast, head lolling against Michael’s as they walked, his eyes barely open. He expected Damien to immediately collapse onto the bed as soon as the door closed behind them, but he surprised him by suddenly pushing away from Michael, toeing out of his shoes and heading for the bathroom. A moment later Michael heard the shower turn on followed by a heavy, dull thud. Instantly concerned, Michael hurried into the bathroom, pulling up short at what he saw.

 

“God, Damien…” he breathed, moisture filling his eyes.

 

His partner sat on the floor of the shower, still fully dressed, the hot water pouring down on him. He was slumped up against the wall, knees pulled up to his chest, eyes squeezed shut, shoulders shaking as he cried.

 

His heart breaking, Michael undressed as quickly as he could and stepped into the shower, dropping down beside Damien, pulling him toward himself.

 

“I’m so dirty, Mike,” Damien choked out. “Everything with Kenji, I’m so sorry…”

 

Michael swallowed hard. “Don’t you dare apologize,” he told his distraught, drugged out partner. “None of this is your fault.”

 

“Just want to get clean,” Damien mumbled, pulling at his clothes.

 

Michael nodded. “Okay, we can do that,” he said gently, reaching for the buttons on Damien’s soaking wet shirt. “Here, let me…”

 

Michael got Damien undressed and spent the next long while tenderly washing his partner from head to toe, not missing one inch of bare skin, wanting to remove all trace of Kenji Seng. Damien was practically boneless by the time Michael got them both out of the shower and dried off, collapsing down onto the mattress as soon as they made it to the bed.

 

They lay on their sides facing one another, legs entwined, Michael’s fingers ghosting over Damien’s arm, Damien’s hand resting on Michael’s chest. As risky as this was, Michael was grateful for this stolen moment with Damien, for them to reconnect with each other. Michael leaned forward and closed the small distance between them, pressing his lips to Damien’s. The kiss was slow and soft, Michael savoring every moment of it after being apart from Damien for so many days.

 

When the kiss ended Michael gently cupped Damien’s bruised cheek and brushed a thumb across the small cut.

 

“What happened?” he asked softly.

 

Damien blinked sluggishly at him and Michael could see the exhaustion written in his blue eyes.

 

“I’ve got a lot to tell you. But I’m so tired, Mike,” he mumbled, resting his head against Michael’s shoulder.

 

“It’s okay, get some rest,” Michael whispered, cupping the back of Damien’s head.

 

He rolled over onto his back then, taking Damien with him, his partner a comfortable, heavy weight across his body. Michael wrapped his arms around Damien as his partner burrowed his head further against Michael’s neck and shoulder.

 

“Don’t let go, Mike,” Damien murmured, his breath soft against Michael’s skin.

 

Michael swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat and tightened his embrace. “Never.”

 

 


	7. CHAPTER SEVEN

## CHAPTER SEVEN

 

 

All Michael wanted was a quiet night of rest for his partner. Unfortunately, it wasn’t to be. Damien was restless all night, his muscles twitching as he slept, his head moving back and forth on the pillow, waking up frequently, sweating, breathing hard. By the time dawn broke both men were lucky if they’d gotten a total of two hours of actual sleep.

 

Bleary-eyed, Damien sat naked on the side of the bed, his head in his hands. He ran a shaky hand over his face and looked over at Michael, who sat up against the pillows. While Damien’s overall appearance worried him, he was glad to see his blue eyes were focused this morning.

 

“How’re you feeling?” Michael asked.

 

“Don’t ask,” Damien replied, voice rough. “I could really use some coffee.”

 

Michael nodded. “I’ll run out. Food, too?”

 

Damien’s face went pale and he shook his head. “No. No food.”

 

Michael blew out a concerned breath. It had been less than a week but he could already see in Damien’s face that he had lost some weight, heroin known for making its users constantly nauseous. Michael pushed the sheet down off himself but Damien held up his hand.

 

“Wait, before you go…” He bent over and grabbed one of his shoes, reaching up into the toe. He withdrew his hand and held out the USB drive to Michael.

 

Michael’s eyes widened. “You got into his computer?” he asked taking the small object from Damien’s hand.

 

Damien nodded. “I pulled off everything I could. I have no idea what’s on there.”

 

Michael swung his legs over the side of the bed then stood and quickly went over to the small dresser where he began pulling out fresh clothes. “I’ll call Locke, get everyone in the crib ASAP,” he said, his words tinged with excitement in the hope that what he held in his palm was the key to finally ending this mission.

 

Michael pulled on his jeans, slipped a t-shirt over his head and then sat next to Damien on the bed to put on his boots. Damien reached over and put a hand on Michael’s arm, stilling his movements. Michael looked over at his partner, saw the apology written on his face.

 

“I’m sorry about last night, Mike. I was really messed up,” he said, voice low. “I never wanted you to see that.”

 

Michael shook his head and grasped Damien’s shoulder. “I needed to. I need to know what you’re going through. I don’t ever want you to think you have to go through this alone. I’ve always got your back. No matter what.”

 

Damien gave him a tired, grateful smile. “Copy that.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

By the time Michael returned with the steaming cup of coffee for Damien and hot tea for himself, Damien had gotten dressed in clean clothes and put his wrinkled suit and dress shoes in a drawstring bag. He stood out on the balcony, smoking, but crushed out the cigarette as Michael joined him. He reached eagerly for the coffee and Michael saw his hand shaking as he did so.

 

“I talked with Locke,” Michael said. “We’ll be ready for briefing in fifteen.”

 

Damien nodded and took a sip of the hot liquid. In the light Michael could see the dark smudges under his partner’s eyes, how drawn his face looked, the bruise starting to turn from purple and blue to green and yellow.

 

“Can you tell me what happened? Why did he hit you?” Michael asked.

 

Damien rested his cup on the balcony railing. “It was right after you and I met in the bathroom, after you told me about Jason. I needed to clear my head before I went back upstairs so I stopped at the bar. This guy came up to me, started flirting, hitting on me. He was nice, made me laugh. We talked for a minute and then I went upstairs. Kenji was standing at the balcony railing. He’d obviously seen me talking to him.” Damien reached up and touched the bruise. “He wanted to remind me who I belonged to.”

 

Michael’s jaw clenched, hard. “That son-of-a-bitch,” he ground out.

 

“I just hope the guy I was talking to didn’t end up like Jason,” Damien said, concern in his voice.

 

Michael glanced away from Damien, reminded of the team’s failure. “I’m sorry we weren’t fast enough.”

 

Damien shook his head. “It’s not your fault, Mike. You had no idea what was going to happen. It’s just one more reason to take this bastard down.”

 

Michael held up the USB drive. “What say we go do that right now?”

 

Damien’s blue eyes went hard. “Fucking roger that.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Michael left the hotel first and Damien followed several minutes later, wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses, walking with his head down. The last thing he needed was to be spotted by any of Kenji’s associates where he shouldn’t be.

 

Bravo Team was assembled around the briefing table when he walked in, all eyes on him. He sat down heavily in his chair, relieved to be sitting down. He was sweating again and his muscles ached, not to mention his stomach protesting the hot, bitter coffee. He took off his hat and sunglasses and Martinez sucked in a quick breath when she saw the bruise and cut on his cheek.

 

She reached out a concerned hand toward his face. “Damien…”

 

He caught her wrist gently and gave her a smile. “I’m okay.”

 

She gave him a look that called him on his bullshit but said nothing more and dropped her hand back down to the table.

 

Locke leaned forward. “Scott. What’ve you got for us?”

 

Damien cleared his throat. “Plenty. First, I saw Kenji kill a man in cold blood.” That got raised eyebrows around the table. “It was one of his lieutenants, who was apparently skimming from him. Kenji shot him right there in the house.”

 

“Did he know you were watching?” Michael asked.

 

Damien shook his head. “No. I’m good. Then I hit paydirt later that afternoon. Two men showed up – Saeed and Ahmadi. I didn’t get first names.” He turned to Martinez and gave her physical descriptions of both men that she started inputting into her laptop as Damien continued. “They’re our buyers. I heard them placing their order with Kenji.” Damien looked at Locke. “You were right. This is bigger than we thought. He’s not just running automatic weapons. They were talking about rocket propelled grenade launchers, claymore mines, mortars and surface-to-air missiles.”

 

“Shit…” Michael swore, leaning back in his chair.

 

“Kenji flew out to Jakarta last night to ‘inspect some merchandise’ he told me. He’s got to be meeting with his supplier there. He’ll be back later this afternoon.” Damien indicated Richmond, whose fingers flew over the keyboard on her laptop. “I see Michael gave you the USB drive. I pulled everything I could off his computer.”

 

Locke nodded slowly, standing, pacing for a moment, absorbing everything Damien had just said. He finally turned back to the team. “Excellent work, Scott. What’s your next move?”

 

Michael stood quickly. “Wait. _What?_ He has no next move! We have names and Seng’s computer files. He’s done!”

 

“Michael…” Locke’s tone was a warning.

 

But Michael continued on, pointing at Damien, his voice rising. “Look at him! We’ve turned him into a fucking addict! Do you know why he’s here right now? Because he was so strung out last night that I couldn’t leave him alone!” Michael’s voice was steel, his eyes flashing anger. “This has gone too far. Pull him out. _Now_!”

 

“NO!” Damien pushed himself to his feet and slammed his hand down on the table.

 

He knew full well that he looked like hell and knew what he was turning into. But he also knew he was a soldier and not a fucking quitter when things got rough. He would see this mission through to the end, not be consigned to the sidelines.

 

“No one’s pulling me out,” Damien said forcefully. Michael angrily shook his head and Damien ignored him. “Not when we’re _this close_ to nailing this asshole.” He pointed to Richmond. “We don’t even know if we can use anything on that drive. But I know the weapons will be here soon. I can get the name of the supplier and where the exchange is going down.” He stared straight at Locke. “Leave me in.”

 

There was utter silence in the crib as the team waited for Locke’s answer.

 

After a long moment where neither Damien nor Locke broke eye contact, Locke finally tipped his head. “Very well. I trust your judgment.”

 

“Fuck!” Michael spat, then threw his arms out. “Am I the only one that sees his judgment is _impaired_?”

 

Damien blew out a long breath. “Michael, I can –“

 

Michael jabbed a finger at him. “Don’t you fucking say you can handle it, Damien!” He crossed his arms over his chest. “I mean, do you even have any idea how you’re supposed to get back in Seng’s house undetected? You were supposed to have been there all night.”

 

“Actually, yes, Michael, I do,” Damien snapped at him, angry that his partner suddenly seemed to have so little faith in his ability to do his job and it stung.

 

“I found a blind spot in the security camera grid outside of the pool. I purposely left the doors unlocked in case I ever needed to use that route to get in or out unseen,” he explained. “I noticed that the guards do twelve-hour shifts and they change at noon. Right now there’s only one at the house. Kenji took the other two with him. The guy who came on at midnight will have thought I went with Kenji to Jakarta, so he wouldn’t have been wondering where I was last night. The guy who comes on at noon and then sees me in the house will think I’ve been there all night.”

 

Michael’s brow furrowed. “That’s bloody risky.”

 

“Maybe. But it’s all I’ve got,” Damien said simply. He looked down at his watch. “And I’ve got to go if I’m going to time this right.”

 

“Watch yourself,” Locke told him.

 

“Will do, boss,” Damien answered, bending down to pick up his drawstring bag then turned and headed for the stairs.

 

Michael caught up with him halfway down, taking hold of his arm, stopping him. Damien pulled out of his grasp, his expression hard.

 

“I’m not going to apologize for being worried about you,” Michael said. “I’ve seen things they haven’t. I know what’s been going on between you and Seng. They don’t.” He put his hands on Damien’s shoulders, his voice quieting. “It’s not that I don’t think you can do your job. I just don’t want to _lose_ you to it. I can’t.”

 

Damien’s eyes softened. “You won’t, Mike.” He touched his paracord bracelet still on Michael’s wrist. “I told you I’d be back for this. And I always keep my promises.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Damien’s head throbbed as he approached the wall to Kenji’s house, both from withdrawal and with the fear of possibly getting caught sneaking in. He wiped the sweat from his face as he looked both ways, double checking the positions of the security cameras before sprinting over to the wall and heaving himself up and over, his aching muscles screaming at him at the exertion. He dropped silently onto the patio, listening for any activity. Hearing nothing, he went to the sliding glass doors, mentally crossing his fingers that they were still unlocked. Luck was with him and they slid open quietly.

 

He crossed the pool area and looked at his watch. He had a little less than five minutes before the guards changed shifts. He opened the door just a crack and peered out into the main floor. He just needed to make it across to the stairs without being seen by the guard on duty, who should be in the security office up near the front door. That way when the next guard came on duty he could come downstairs like he’d been up there the entire time.

 

Damien eased open the door further and stuck his head out. Hearing and seeing nothing he took the chance and made for the stairs, crossing the main floor with just a few long strides. He had no more than flattened his back against the wall, his heart pounding, when he heard the guard come out of the security room and open the front door for his replacement.

 

Keeping absolutely still, Damien strained to hear what they were saying, wanting to know if the current guard was going to say anything about the house being empty or not. But maddeningly, they conversed only in Chinese for the next few minutes, leaving Damien to wonder if his plan was intact or compromised.

 

Only time would tell.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Damien decided to take no chances and remained upstairs. He put his wrinkled suit down the laundry chute in the hallway first then retreated to his room. He took off the clothes he wore and was going to put on one of the casual outfits Kenji’s tailor had provided but he was still sweating and feeling nauseous so he stripped down to his briefs and lay down on the bed instead. He ached all over and his headache was getting worse. He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his head into the pillow, trying once again to ignore his body’s demands for more heroin. But the pull was too great and ten minutes later he retrieved the half a bag he had hidden and poured it out on the dresser with a shaking hand. As he inhaled, Michael’s words rang in his ears.

 

_Look at him! We’ve turned him into a fucking addict!_

 

He sat on the edge of the bed and buried his face in his hands, disgusted once more at his weakness. He took a deep breath, trying to find focus. It wasn’t like this was who he was going to be once this mission was over. It was just temporary. He wasn’t a true addict. When this was all over he’d be away from the drugs and things would get back to normal. Simple as that. Right?

 

Steadfastly refusing to acknowledge the little part of his brain that said he was fooling himself, Damien headed for the shower to freshen up before Kenji returned.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Damien heard Kenji arrive about an hour later. He was talking but Damien couldn’t quite make out what he was saying from upstairs as he opened the door of his room. As he started down the stairs he heard the word “Saeed” and froze. Kenji was on his phone.

 

“…merchandise will be delivered at 11:00 pm this evening,” Damien heard Kenji say and he held his breath as Kenji continued. “112 Jalan Benteng. The remainder of your payment will be due at that time. A pleasure doing business with you.”

 

Damien’s heart pounded in his chest as Kenji ended the call. It was happening tonight. Fucking finally. In a few more hours Damien would have the satisfaction of turning the tables on Kenji Seng and showing him who _really_ had the power and control in this “relationship”.

 

But he had to somehow get the information to Section 20 first.

 

His brain trying to suddenly focus through the heroin buzz and come up with a plan, Damien crept silently back up the stairs. Then he turned and started back down, deliberately making noise this time, like he’d been in his room and not listening in on Kenji’s conversation.

 

Kenji was all smiles when Damien stepped off the last stair. He pulled Damien to him and kissed him hard for a long moment, his tongue down Damien’s throat.

 

Damien put on his own smile when Kenji finally moved back. “I take it your inspection went well?” he asked innocently.

 

“Oh yes,” Kenji replied. “The merchandise arrives tonight and then I think a vacation is in order to celebrate. Have you ever been to Bali?”

 

Damien shook his head. “No, never.”

 

“Excellent. I’ll have Huan make the arrangements.” Kenji looked him up and down, undressing him with his eyes and Damien’s stomach turned. “You’ll look good in nothing but a thong on the beach,” Kenji leered, then stepped around Damien to head upstairs.

 

But then he stopped with his foot on the bottom stair and turned back to Damien. “I’m sorry I had to leave you last night. I take it Michael got you home all right?”

 

It seemed a casual question, but the hairs on the back of Damien’s neck stood up. Did Kenji suspect something? “Yeah. Thanks for asking him to do that,” he answered.

 

Kenji’s pause before he nodded was too long for Damien’s comfort and he felt a chill run down his spine as Kenji finally turned and went upstairs. The same chill he felt whenever a mission was about to go sideways and there was nothing he could do about it.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Damien paced the floor in the upstairs entertainment area. It was turning out to be the longest day in his life.

 

All he’d wanted to do was figure out a way to get out of the house, by himself, to get Michael the information needed to bring this mission to an end. But before he could even form a plan, Kenji was thwarting it.

 

He was apparently eager to spend his ill-gotten gains from the arms deal with Saeed and insisted Damien accompany him to purchase a new sports car. For endless hours Kenji went from one high-end dealership to another, test driving cars with more zeroes in the price tag than Damien could count. His final purchase was a Porsche of some kind, Damien paying more attention to his watch and the hours ticking by than the name of the car.

 

Damien thought they’d finally be returning home but instead they’d gone out to dinner. Damien was in rough shape by then, his half bag of heroin having worn off several hours prior, leaving him shaky. But he’d refused to ask Kenji for more. Hopefully this would all be over in a few more hours and he’d be rid of the drugs once and for all. If he could only get away from Kenji and get to Michael.

 

Damien’s frustration and anxiety grew as their next stop was not the house, but Club Almari. Kenji had a meeting with his club manager to go over the books for that month. Damien’s internal resolution to stay away from the drugs was for nothing as Kenji tossed him a bag and told him to go amuse himself watching the dancers practice while he conducted his business. Unable to refuse, Damien had taken the drugs.

 

Which put him in the state he was now, finally back at Kenji’s house. He was so on edge at this point he could practically feel his whole body vibrating, the heroin he’d had less than an hour ago heightening the sensation, complicating matters even further. There were only a few hours left until the weapons would be delivered. He forced himself not to just drift away on the heroin high, but come up with a plan to get out of the house.

 

He stuffed his hands in his pants pocket as he paced and felt his pack of cigarettes. He idly remembered he only had one left and just like that he had his plan. He removed the pack and lit up his last cigarette, smoking it quickly. He’d just finished when Kenji came out of his office. Perfect timing.

 

Damien hadn’t truly been needed on any of those errands today and he had a nagging feeling that Kenji purposely didn’t want him out of his sight. He was about to test that theory.

 

“Kenji,” Damien called over to him, holding up his empty cigarette pack. “I’m out of smokes. Do you mind if I go downtown and pick up a few packs before all the stores close?”

 

Again that pregnant pause and Damien held his breath until Kenji nodded his head. “Of course. I’ll have Yeo bring the car around for you.”

 

“No, that’s okay,” Damien said quickly. “I’d rather walk.”

 

If Kenji did indeed suspect something he may have just set off more alarm bells but he had no choice. He couldn’t exactly have the limo drop him off at the crib. He needed to be by himself. If Kenji insisted the driver take him he didn’t know what he’d do.

 

“Don’t be long,” Kenji told him and Damien felt his pulse slow down. Maybe his theory was wrong.

 

Or maybe Kenji was just giving him more rope to hang himself with.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Michael peered over Richmond’s shoulder as she worked at her computer station in the crib. Pages and pages of documents flashed up on her screen. Some in Chinese, some in English.

 

“Anything?” he asked impatiently.

 

Richmond blew out a breath. “Yes and no. There are schematics of all the weapons Damien mentioned. There are also spreadsheets with what looks like orders for said weapons with amounts and dates. But no complete names. Only initials. And I can’t find any information at all on who Kenji’s supplier in Jakarta is. He’s apparently keeping that information in his head.”

 

“Shit,” Michael swore, frustrated.

 

“I’m sorry,” Richmond said. “I know you want Damien out of there. We all do.”

 

Michael squeezed her shoulder. “I need to get some air. You could use a break as well. You, too, Martinez. I’ll run out and get us some food.”

 

Martinez looked up from her computer. “Thanks, Michael. Oh, and I put that med kit together you asked for.”

 

Michael nodded gratefully. “Cheers.” He looked back at Richmond. “Where’s Locke?”

 

“Conference call with Whitehall,” she answered. “I’ll let him know where you’ve gone.”

 

Michael nodded. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

 

“No fried scorpions or anything, Stonebridge!” Martinez called after him and he chuckled as he went down the stairs.

 

He paused as he stepped outside, feeling his gray t-shirt start to immediately stick to his skin from the humidity, even this late in the day as the sun was setting. He turned to the right, toward a group of food vendors, blending in with the rest of the ever present flow of people on the sidewalk. He’d only taken a half dozen steps when someone grabbed his shoulder from behind. He reacted instinctively, his hand-to-hand combat skills kicking in as he grabbed the person’s wrist and whirled around, his other hand curling into a fist and rising up to strike…only to stop short when he saw who had grabbed him.

 

“Bloody hell!” he exploded. “Damien! What the fuck are you doing here?” he demanded, instantly concerned, letting go of his partner’s arm.

 

“I’ve only got a minute,” Damien said quickly. “Kenji thinks I’m out getting cigarettes. I’ve got the intel on the shipment.”

 

Michael took hold of Damien’s upper arms and moved them both off the sidewalk and into the entryway of the closest shop. He could feel Damien’s muscles trembling and saw his glassy, dilated blue eyes. He was high again.

 

Damien stepped close and lowered his voice. “The weapons are being delivered tonight, 11:00 pm, 112 Jalan Benteng. I remember there being a bunch of warehouses down there. Should be plenty of places for the team to get set up. No idea how many people Kenji, Saeed or the supplier are bringing, so be prepared for anything.” Damien’s eyes hardened. “That bullet you’ve been saving for me with Kenji’s name on it? Looks like I won’t get the chance, so you’ve got my permission to use it. Come to the house and pick me up after you kick their asses.” Damien turned to go then but Michael snagged his arm.

 

“What are you doing?” Michael asked, confused. “We’ve got everything we need now. This time you’re done. You’re out. You’re not going back to that house.”

 

Damien shook his head. “I think Kenji’s getting suspicious about something, about me. If I disappear now he might call the whole thing off tonight. We can’t take that chance. I have to go back.”

 

A feeling of dread settled in the pit of Michael’s stomach at Damien’s words. He knew his partner was right, but he didn’t have to like it. He reached out and hooked a hand around Damien’s neck and brought their foreheads together.

 

“You fucking watch yourself, mate,” Michael whispered fiercely. “This is almost over.”

 

Damien lifted his head and kissed Michael in reassurance. “I’ll see you soon.”

 

And then Michael was left standing there, watching him walk away, his feeling of unease growing with every step Damien took.


	8. CHAPTER EIGHT

## CHAPTER EIGHT

 

 

Damien’s heart pounded and he was soaked with sweat by the time he arrived back at the house, a combination of the drugs and the rush he always felt when a mission was about to reach its climax. His skin was hyper-sensitive again, his clothes clinging damply to his body and he wanted them off. He went straight to the pool after he walked in the front door. He tossed the packs of cigarettes he’d remembered to buy on one of the tables, stripped off his clothes and dove into the pool completely naked except for the gold chain around his neck.

 

He stayed under the water as long as he could, holding his breath, trying to calm himself down. He had to hold himself together for a little while longer. He couldn’t afford to let the drugs affect his behavior now, so close to the end. Kenji was suspicious enough without Damien adding to it by giving away he was on edge about what he knew was to come.

 

He finally resurfaced and let himself float, letting the heroin flow freely through his body, not fighting it any longer, just wanting it to run its course through his system. For hopefully the last time ever.

 

He was swimming laps later, needing an outlet for the pent up energy he still felt, trying not to think about Michael and the rest of Bravo Team and what they might be walking into very soon. He hated that he couldn’t be there with them. He should be standing shoulder to shoulder with Michael, watching his partner’s back, not swimming in some fucking Triad leader’s pool.

 

The object of his hatred walked into the pool area sometime later and dropped a towel on top of Damien’s cigarettes.

 

“Take a shower and get dressed,” Kenji told him with that carefully neutral expression that once again raised the hairs on the back of Damien’s neck.

 

“Are we going somewhere?” Damien asked as he pushed himself up and out of the pool.

 

“Closing a business deal. Tying up a few loose ends. I’d like you to be there,” he said casually, but the smile he gave Damien was cold and Damien felt a frantic scrabbling in his chest. Kenji had never included him in any of his business dealings before. Why did he want him there tonight of all nights? Had his cover been blown? Was Section 20 walking into a trap?

 

He swallowed hard and put a smile on his face as he picked up the towel. “Of course. I’ll be right down,” he replied and started to move past Kenji.

 

“Wait,” Kenji said and Damien stopped, feeling his heart skip a beat and all of his muscles tensed.

 

Kenji pulled the towel from Damien’s grasp and looked his wet naked body up and down with that same cold smile. “Would be a shame to waste this opportunity, with you looking like that, tempting me,” he leered, reaching out to squeeze Damien’s ass, hard.

 

“Against the wall, Damien,” Kenji commanded and a chill went down Damien’s spine at his tone.

 

Damien did as Kenji asked, putting his palms against the wall and spreading his legs. Kenji walked up behind him and Damien heard him unzip his pants and then the tearing of a condom packet. Kenji moved closer then and Damien could tell he was stroking himself to complete hardness. He clenched his jaw a moment later when he felt one of Kenji’s hands on his ass, gripping tight. A second later he bit down on his lip as Kenji thrust in hard, squeezing his eyes shut at the painful burn as his body protested the sudden intrusion.

 

Kenji’s hands were like vises on Damien’s hips, his fingernails digging into his skin as he pistoned his hips, thrusting forcefully into Damien over and over. Alarm bells were going off in Damien’s head. Kenji was never kind or considerate when he had sex, but this was different – he meant to cause Damien pain this time. As if to punish him. He was now surer than ever that Kenji knew who he really was. And that his life was in danger. Along with the entire mission. He had to get out of here and warn his team.

 

Damien gritted his teeth until Kenji was done, forcing down the bile in his throat when he felt Kenji finally climax, filling the condom inside him. He winced when Kenji pulled out and uncurled his fingers from his hips.

 

“ _Now_ you may go get dressed,” Kenji told him, and Damien nodded as he straightened up, his brain working furiously to come up with a plan to get out of the house. He knew he could break Kenji’s neck with his bare hands then go out the patio doors which he’d left unlocked, and over the wall. His fingers flexed, beginning to put his plan in motion when the door to the pool area suddenly opened. It was Huan. He must have arrived while Damien was out meeting Michael.

 

Huan’s expression was tense. “Kenji,” he said sharply and indicated with his head that he needed him.

 

Kenji nodded. “Go on, Damien,” Kenji told him, flicking his wrist, dismissing him.

 

Damien unclenched his hands and scooped up the towel, which he wrapped around his waist, feeling Kenji’s gaze burning into his back as he walked away.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Section 20 was in place at the warehouse, deployed around the perimeter, utterly silent and still, dressed in black from head to toe, blending in with the darkness. Waiting for the weapons to arrive. Each man and woman coiled and ready for a fight, eager to bring these men to justice and stop their reign of terror and death.

 

Michael, Richmond, Martinez, and Locke were in the communications truck, monitoring the CCTV camera feeds in the warehouse district that Richmond was able to hack into, watching for Seng, Saeed and the unknown supplier. They, too, were silent, all eyes on the computer screen, so when the alert went off it startled everyone.

 

Richmond’s fingers flew over the keyboard. “Shit!” she swore.

 

“What is it?” Locke demanded.

 

“Someone’s running facial recognition on Michael,” she replied grimly.

 

“ _What?_ ” Michael said, eyes widening. “Show me.”

 

A moment later a photograph appeared on the screen – of him and Damien standing in the entryway of that store just a few hours ago, Michael’s hands on Damien’s arms.

 

“Fuck!” Michael exploded. Damien had been followed. His partner had been right. Seng did suspect something. “His cover’s blown. Kenji’s going to kill him,” he said, his voice strained. He felt like he couldn’t breathe, his heart slamming against his chest in fear for Damien. His nightmare was coming true.

 

“Richmond, where is he?” Michael asked quickly.

 

Richmond pulled up Damien’s GPS location. “He’s at Seng’s house,” she answered.

 

“You and Richmond take one of the jeeps,” Locke said quickly. “Martinez and I will take care of this end.” He locked eyes with Michael. “Go bring our boy back.”

 

Michael’s jaw clenched. “Copy that.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Damien hadn’t taken two steps past Huan when Kenji’s two bodyguards were on him, grasping his arms, trying to twist them behind his back. Damien instantly fought back, trying to pull out of their grasp, kicking out with his foot, losing his towel in the process. His foot connected with one guard’s knee and the man grunted but didn’t fall. Damien cried out in pain when the other guard bent his wrist backward then kicked him behind his knee, driving him to the floor.

 

“Get him up,” Kenji commanded, voice like steel. “Put him in a chair.”

 

The guards hauled Damien to his feet and dragged him across the floor into the meeting room where they threw him down onto a chair, quickly securing his wrists and ankles with short pieces of rope. They moved back then and removed their sidearms, which they kept pointing down toward the floor, ready to raise in the blink of an eye. Huan came into the room next and sat down in front of a laptop computer that was on the table, along with several pieces of paper and Kenji’s black box of drugs. Kenji entered last, moving to stand right in front of Damien. Before Damien could speak Kenji lashed out with a vicious punch that snapped Damien’s head to the side, pain blossoming across his eye and cheekbone. Another punch caught Damien in the mouth and he spat blood out onto the floor.

 

Kenji grabbed his jaw, squeezing hard, lifting Damien’s head up to look at him. His face was a mask of fury. “Did you really think I wouldn’t find out you didn’t come home last night?” he spat, then reached for one of the pieces of paper on the table. “First the man at the bar and now _this?_ ”

 

He shoved the paper in front of Damien’s face and Damien forgot how to breathe. It was a photo of him and Michael a few hours ago in the doorway of the shop, just as Damien had kissed him. Kenji had had him followed.

 

Kenji released Damien’s jaw to deliver a punch to Damien’s gut that drove the breath from his lungs and doubled him over. Kenji threw the photo down on the floor then dug his fingers into Damien’s short hair and pulled him back upright.

 

“I take you into my home, give you a place to live, give you clothes, drugs, gifts…” He curled his fingers around the gold chain hanging from Damien’s neck and pulled hard, breaking the clasp. Gold links flew everywhere, raining down upon the floor. “And this is how you repay me? By _betraying me?!_ ” Kenji yelled.

 

Damien nearly laughed hysterically in relief. Kenji thought Damien was _cheating on him_. He had no idea who Damien really was, what he was there to do. The mission was still intact. Michael and the rest of Bravo Team were safe.

 

Damien kept that thought in the forefront of his mind as Kenji took out his anger with his fists, pummeling Damien’s face and chest. He would take the beating silently and willingly if it meant keeping up his cover for just a little while longer. Or taking his true identity to the grave if it came to that. There was no reason to think that Kenji wouldn’t kill him for his supposed betrayal, the doomed faces of Jason and Kenji’s lieutenant flashing in his mind.

 

“Kenji!” Huan’s shocked voice brought Kenji up short and cut through the haze of pain in Damien’s head.

 

“Look!” Huan held out the laptop toward Kenji and Damien blinked rapidly, trying to focus on the screen.

 

What he saw made his blood run cold.

 

It was a facial recognition program. Another photo of Michael from their meeting on the sidewalk was in one corner with MATCH flashing above it. The rest of the screen was filled with an online newspaper article from years ago when Kerry had been murdered. The headline read “SOLDIER’S WIFE KILLED IN PARK SHOOTING” and there was a black and white picture of Michael in uniform, with a caption that Sergeant Michael Stonebridge worked for British Military Intelligence.

 

Damien could see the moment when Kenji put two and two together. With an outraged yell, Kenji slammed the laptop closed and hurled it across the room. Then he clamped his hand around Damien’s throat and squeezed. “The weapons. How much do you know?” he demanded.

 

Damien smiled through the blood in his mouth. “All of it. My team is taking down Saeed, Ahmadi, and your supplier as we speak. You’re through, you sick son-of-a-bitch,” he gasped as Kenji’s grip tightened around his throat.

 

“No. You are,” Kenji snarled. He increased the pressure on Damien’s throat, cutting off his air until Damien’s vision started to go black.

 

Huan reached back and removed a gun from his waistband, up under his shirt. He pointed it at Damien’s head. “Let me take care of this.”

 

Kenji shook his head and released Damien, who began coughing and gasping for air.

 

“No. He’s not worth the time and effort it would take to clean up the mess. Besides, I’d already had something else planned for him,” Kenji told Huan as he pulled his black drug box across the table. “What’s one more dead junkie?”

 

Kenji withdrew a syringe from the smaller case and Damien could see it was filled with at least twice the amount of heroin that Kenji usually used. This amount would be fatal, an instant overdose.

 

“I need you to try and contact Saeed and Brodie,” Kenji told Huan as he took the cap off the syringe and bent over Damien. “Then we’re leaving as soon as I deal with this.”

 

Kenji didn’t even need his elastic band, the veins in Damien’s arms standing out from where he strained against his restraints.

 

Damien took a deep breath, refusing to give Kenji the satisfaction of seeing any fear in his eyes as he faced his death, a single thought running through his head.

 

_I’m sorry, Michael_

Damien felt the syringe puncture his skin, followed by a burning sensation as the lethal dose of heroin began racing through his veins. He gritted his teeth against the pain, his neck arching back against the chair as death rushed up to meet him, helpless to stop it.

 

Then there was an explosion of glass…and Damien’s world went dark.

 


	9. CHAPTER NINE

## CHAPTER NINE

 

Michael and Richmond raced through the dark streets of Chinatown, desperate to reach Damien in time. Neither willing to even think they might already be too late.

 

“Do you remember the layout of Seng’s house, from what Damien told us?” Michael asked Richmond.

 

She nodded. “What’s your plan?”

 

“We go in through that blind spot in the security camera grid – over the wall into the patio area outside the pool. Hopefully, Damien left the doors unlocked. I’m hoping from there we can get eyes inside,” he told her. “I don’t want to just bust through the front door not knowing what the situation is first.”

 

“Agreed,” Richmond replied, then put her hand on Michael’s arm. “We’ll get him back.”

 

Michael clenched his jaw and pressed down harder on the accelerator.

 

 

Five minutes later they parked the jeep down the street from the house and then crept silently toward it, staying in the shadows, their high-powered assault rifles up and at the ready. They made their way to the wall, seeing the foliage peeking over the top of it and knew they were in the right spot. Richmond went up and over first, gave the “all clear” signal and Michael joined her, dropping down silently next to her on the patio. They froze for a moment, visually scanning the area outside and inside the pool area, through the glass. Seeing and hearing nothing, Michael stood and went to the sliding glass doors - which opened for him. He released a relieved breath and signaled for Richmond to follow him.

 

Michael’s heart rate started to accelerate the moment he stepped inside, his breathing quickening as adrenaline began to flow through his body. He and Richmond paused just inside the doors, rifles up, doing a quick scan of the area. Finding it empty, they moved quickly with long strides over to the door that opened up into the main area of the house. They crouched down and Michael opened the door just wide enough for him to look out. He detected no movement in the foyer or in the living area, but just beyond that he could see a glass-walled room which contained four men, and a naked and bloody Damien tied to a chair.

 

“Fuck,” Michael breathed, then moved aside so Richmond could assess the situation as well.

 

Richmond gave him a tense nod as she moved back slightly from the door. Michael raised up three fingers – the GO signal – as Richmond put one of her hands on the door, ready to open it wide.

 

Michael’s fingers counted down – three, two, one, GO

 

Richmond and Michael burst from their hiding place, rifles up, catching everyone in the meeting room by surprise. Michael had time to register that Seng was bent over Damien and Huan was raising a phone up to his ear before he and Richmond took up firing stances.

 

“No one move!” Michael yelled, a split second before Huan raised his gun and Seng grabbed one from the nearest bodyguard.

 

Michael and Richmond opened fire, their large caliber ammunition tearing through the glass like tissue paper.

 

Richmond took out Huan with two bullets to the chest, blood spraying like a fountain as the man dropped, dead before he hit the floor. Her next two shots took out one of the bodyguards just as he raised up his own gun, the man falling back against the wall before sliding to the floor.

 

Michael’s entire focus was on Kenji Seng, anger raging inside him, his vision red with it as he looked through the scope on his rifle and lined up the crosshairs on his target. It seemed to happen in slow motion – Michael pulling the trigger, the bullet whistling through the air, then tearing through Seng’s forehead and straight out the back of his skull, the man first collapsing to his knees, then face first onto the floor, dead.

 

The breath Michael had been holding exploded out of him, just as he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. There was someone rushing up behind them, coming out of a room near the front door.

 

“Richmond!” Michael yelled. “On your six!”

 

Richmond pivoted instantly and with a double tap of her trigger the bodyguard collapsed lifelessly to the floor, just as Michael took out the last remaining guard inside the meeting room.

 

It was deathly silent for a moment, Michael and Richmond scanning for any other movement before they exploded into action.

 

“Damien!” Michael cried out as he sprinted across the floor. “Damien!” He dropped down beside his unmoving partner, heedless of the broken glass cutting into his knees.

 

Richmond was right behind him. She put two fingers on the side of Damien’s neck. “No pulse.”

 

Michael put a hand on Damien’s chest. “He’s not breathing.”

 

It was then that Michael saw the needle, still sticking out of Damien’s arm. He pulled it out and threw it across the room. “Shit!” He started untying the rope from Damien’s wrists and ankles, his fingers fumbling in his haste. “Get out the med kit!” he told Richmond.

 

Once Damien was free, Michael draped him over his shoulder and carried him out of the meeting room, away from the broken glass. He lay Damien down carefully on the tile floor as Richmond pulled the med kit from her backpack.

 

“Get me the Narcan!” Michael yelled as he immediately began CPR on his partner. “Don’t you do this, Damien! Don’t you fucking do this!” he yelled as he pumped Damien’s chest, his voice breaking. He did two rescue breaths and when he straightened up, Richmond was ready with the syringe of Narcan.

 

As soon as it had become apparent that Damien was being pulled further and further under the heroin’s influence, Michael began to fear the worst, that his partner might succumb to an overdose. So he had Martinez procure an Automated External Defibrillator and a vial of both adrenaline and Narcan – a powerful drug that would literally bring an opiate overdose victim back from death.

 

Michael stabbed the needle into Damien’s thigh as Richmond pulled out the AED. Michael gave Damien another two quick breaths then resumed chest compressions as Richmond turned on the AED, preparing to shock Damien’s heart if the drug didn’t work.

 

“Come back to me, Damien…come back to me…” Michael panted, fear constricting his chest, his heart slamming against his ribcage.

 

Michael ceased compressions and held out his hands to Richmond. “Give me the pads,” he said, but before he could grab them, Damien let out a gasp and his entire body arched up off the floor, startling both Michael and Richmond.

 

Damien was breathing hard, his head moving from side to side, his eyes open but unfocused, his hands raising up, reaching out in confusion.

 

“Damien!” Michael put his hands on either side of Damien’s bloody face, stilling his movement. “It’s okay, mate, you’re okay,” Michael reassured him, trying to calm him. “Damien, can you hear me?”

 

Damien’s hands caught hold of Michael’s arms, squeezed tight. He blinked several times, one of his eyes starting to swell from Seng’s beating. “M-Mike?” he slurred.

 

Michael nodded, swallowing hard. He rubbed a thumb gently across Damien’s cheek, swiping through the blood. “Yeah, it’s me. Just lie still, okay? We’re going to get you to hospital.”

 

Michael looked up to see Richmond nodding, looking as relieved as Michael. “I’ll go find a blanket. We’ll take him ourselves. We can’t have an ambulance showing up to this mess and we can’t be answering questions as to what happened.”

 

“Agreed,” Michael said, then got on his comm to Locke as Richmond went upstairs to find a blanket. “Zero, this is Bravo Two and Three. We have secured the package.” He looked down at Damien, bloody and battered, but alive. “Repeat. We have secured the package.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

The next few hours were a whirlwind of activity for Section 20.

 

Michael and Richmond got Damien to the closest hospital and got him admitted, quickly explaining about the beating and drug overdose. Michael wanted to stay with his partner as he was examined but the doctors wouldn’t allow it. He paced the floor in the waiting area restlessly, waiting for word on Damien’s condition as he and Richmond got in contact with Locke.

 

It was back and forth communication, Michael and Richmond giving their report on what occurred at Seng’s house and Locke informing them that the takedown of Saeed, Ahmadi and Seng’s supplier, Brodie, had been successful. Now they were left to clean up the mess and call in the proper authorities. Locke had requested Richmond’s assistance and for Michael to keep him updated on Damien’s condition.

 

Now Michael sat, impatiently waiting for the doctor, growing more concerned by the moment, the longer it took for someone to come talk to him. So when the doctor did finally appear, Michael was out of his chair and in the man’s face.

 

“How is he?” Michael demanded.

 

“Mr. Stonebridge, I’m Doctor Mahathir,” the dark-haired, bespectacled Malaysian man said calmly. “Mr. Scott has given me permission to share his condition and treatment with you.” He indicated the chairs. “Please, sit.”

 

Michael blew out a frustrated breath and sat down, eager for the doctor to just get on with it.

 

“Mr. Scott has suffered several cuts and contusions about his face and chest,” Doctor Mahathir began. “We did a CT scan and confirmed that there are no skull fractures or any indication of brain damage or bleeds.”

 

Michael swallowed and nodded, relieved at the news.

 

“There were no fractures of his cheekbone or jaw, either, but he does have two bruised ribs. He is also dehydrated and appears to not have been eating properly,” the doctor continued. “As you know, his most serious condition was that of the overdose. He is extremely lucky that you had Narcan with you.” Doctor Mahathir removed his glasses and stared at Michael intently. Michael knew he was waiting for him to explain just why he would have a drug like that on him, but when Michael remained silent he continued. “What can you tell me about his addiction? Does he want help?”

 

“Yes! God, yes,” Michael said quickly. “This…none of this was his fault.” Michael paused, having to choose his words carefully, unable to give any details on a classified military mission. “He was forced to take the heroin.”

 

Doctor Mahathir sat back. “I see. How long was he on it?”

 

“Every day for about a week,” Michael answered.

 

Doctor Mahathir nodded. “He should respond well to the methadone treatment, then. But even with the medication he will go through severe withdrawal symptoms.”

 

Michael ran a hand over his face. “Can I see him?”

 

“Yes, of course,” Doctor Mahathir answered. “Upstairs, third floor. Room 358. He might be a bit groggy. We’ve given him medication for his pain.”

 

Michael stood and shook Doctor Mahathir’s hand. “Thank you for taking care of him.”

 

“Of course. Thank you for being concerned about him. He’s going to need a friend to get through this.”

 

Michael’s voice was strong. “I’m not going anywhere, Doctor.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Michael quietly pushed open the door to room 358 and walked inside, stopping short when he saw the figure in the bed. Damien lay still, on his back, his eyes closed. His normally tanned face was pale against the pillowcase, the bruises and cuts standing out in stark relief. There was a butterfly bandage on his temple and another on his cheekbone. He had an IV in one arm and EKG electrodes affixed to his bare chest.

 

Michael’s throat closed up and he felt tears flood his eyes. This had been close. Too fucking close. He swiped at his eyes and moved to sit in the chair next to the bed. He gently laid his hand on Damien’s arm and brushed his thumb across his skin.

 

Damien stirred then, tipping his head toward Michael. He blinked open one eye and half of another through the swelling.

 

“Mike?” he rasped.

 

Michael gave him a small smile. “Yeah, mate, it’s me. How’re you feeling?”

 

Damien gave a deep sigh. “Like a fucking truck ran me over. What the hell happened?”

 

Michael’s jaw tightened. “You died,” he said simply.

 

Damien’s good eye widened. “I remember Kenji injecting me, then glass flying everywhere. And that’s all. How…” he trailed off.

 

“Richmond picked up on a facial recognition scan being run on me,” Michael told him. “We knew you were in trouble, tracked your GPS signal. We arrived just after Seng injected you.”

 

Damien’s expression hardened. “Where is he now?”

 

“Lying on the floor of his house with a bullet through his head. It’s over.”

 

Damien’s eyes closed briefly and he nodded. Michael could see the relief on his face, saw his shoulders relax. “Good. It’s what that bastard deserved. And the rest of the mission? Was it compromised?” he asked.

 

Michael shook his head. “Richmond got Huan before he could make the call to Saeed and Brodie, the supplier. Locke and Martinez and the rest of the team got them all, and the weapons.”

 

Damien gave him a grin. “So we can chalk this up in the win column.”

 

Michael sat back heavily in the chair, dumbfounded. “You call this a _win_?” he said incredulously, throwing his arms open to indicate Damien lying in the hospital bed. “You _died_ , Damien,” he said forcefully. “Do you have any idea what it was like for me to see you lying there, bloody, not breathing, pushing on your chest, yelling at you to come back to me…” Michael’s voice broke and he swallowed hard.

 

Damien’s expression softened. “I’m sorry, Mike. I never meant to put you through that.” He reached out and Michael took his hand. “Thanks for saving my life. You’ve always got my back.”

 

Michael squeezed Damien’s hand, locking gazes with him. “Always,” he said quietly.

 

They sat there for a moment in silence, just reconnecting with one another, until Damien spoke again.

 

“Do one more thing for me?” he asked.

 

Michael gave a small chuckle. “What? Saving your life wasn’t enough?”

 

Damien didn’t laugh. “Get me out of here.”

 

Michael shook his head. “Damien, you’re hurt – “ he started but his partner cut him off.

 

“Listen to me, Mike. I know what’s coming. The withdrawal. Just the small taste of it I’ve gotten this week has been bad enough. You’ve seen some of it. What I’m going to go through soon is going to be ten times worse.” He paused then and squeezed Michael’s hand. “I can’t…I can’t let anyone from the team see me like that. _Please_ , Mike. Take me somewhere. Just me and you. Help me get through this. You’re the only one I trust.”

 

Michael heard the anguish and desperation in his partner’s voice and it hit him like a punch to the gut. He nodded his head. “Okay, I’ll talk to your doctor.”

 

Damien blew out a shaky breath and nodded his head, his eyes closing. Michael could see the exhaustion written on his face. He squeezed Damien’s hand again and released it.

 

“Get some rest,” he said quietly, standing up.

 

“Copy that,” Damien breathed, already drifting off.

 

Michael stood there for a moment, looking down at his beaten and battered partner. He understood why Damien wanted to seclude himself away from the others. He would’ve asked for the same thing. They were soldiers and you didn’t show weakness or vulnerability. Most especially in front of your teammates. He knew it was hard enough for Damien to be lying in that hospital bed. Even though everyone knew that none of this was Damien’s fault he wouldn’t put his partner through more than this if he could. Because like Damien said, he had his back.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Michael found Doctor Mahathir at the nurses station, reading through charts.

 

“Excuse me, Doctor Mahathir?”

 

The doctor looked up. “Mr. Stonebridge. You’ve been in to see Mr. Scott?”

 

Michael nodded. “I have. And I have a question. Can he be released?”

 

Doctor Mahathir hesitated. “Technically, yes. He has no life threatening injuries. But I don’t advise it. He needs to be monitored through his withdrawal and detox. And have his medication dispensed correctly.”

 

“I can handle all that,” Michael told him. “I’d be with him the entire time. He’d rather be in a more private environment. I hope you can understand that.”

 

Doctor Mahathir’s brows drew together. “I can, but as a physician I’d much rather have him remain here. However, I cannot stop Mr. Scott from checking himself out if that is his wish.”

 

“It is,” Michael told him. “Can you have the paperwork drawn up? And his medication put together for me?”

 

Doctor Mahathir nodded reluctantly. “I will. But come sit with me first. I want to tell you what you can expect when Mr. Scott begins the withdrawal process. Then you tell me honestly if you still think you can handle this on your own…”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

It was a good half hour before Michael made it back to Damien’s room, paperwork and medication in hand, Doctor Mahathir’s words ringing in his ears. He knew the doctor was trying to dissuade Michael from helping Damien discharge himself by telling him how difficult the next three to five days were going to be. But his words actually had the opposite effect. Now more than ever Michael wanted him and Damien to go through this together, with no one else around to witness his partner’s suffering.

 

Michael turned the corner and found Richmond leaning up against the wall outside Damien’s room. She straightened up when she saw him, hooking a thumb over her shoulder.

 

“I didn’t see you in there and it looks like he’s sleeping. I didn’t want to wake him if I went in.”

 

“Thanks,” Michael said. “He’s really not up to visitors.”

 

Richmond nodded. “How is he?”

 

Michael blew out a breath. “Rough, but in one piece. Nothing broken. That hard head of his is still intact,” he smiled.

 

Richmond smiled in return. “That’s good to hear. How long are they going to keep him?”

 

“Not much longer.” Michael held up the paperwork and medication. “He’s discharging himself.”

 

Richmond’s brows furrowed. “Is that wise?”

 

“He doesn’t want anyone to see him go through the withdrawal. And I don’t blame him. He wants me to take him somewhere. And I could use your help with that.”

 

“Of course. What can I do?”

 

“Can you call the Agency? Talk to Damien’s old handler, Christy Bryant. See if the CIA has a safe house around here that I can take him to for a few days.”

 

“I’ll get right on it,” she replied.

 

“Is Locke here, too?”

 

“Downstairs,” she answered. “But Michael, before you talk to him you need to know – we found the rest of the photographs Kenji’s man took of you and Damien.”

 

Of the two of them kissing, she left unsaid. “Shit,” Michael breathed, running a hand over his face.

 

Richmond put her hand on his arm. “Is this new? The two of you?” she asked gently.

 

Michael nodded. “About five months.”

 

Richmond smiled at him. “I’m glad for you,” she said sincerely. “I know how hard it was when you lost Kerry. It’s not easy to find happiness a second time in this life. You deserve it. Both of you.”

 

Michael put his hand on top of hers. “Thanks, Julia.”

 

“Now go talk to the boss while I make arrangements for the two of you,” she told him. “And don’t let him give you any shit about this. You’re not breaking any rules and you had every right to keep this private.”

 

He gave her a mock salute and a grin. “Will do, ma’am.”

 

But his grin slid away as he walked to the elevators. Locke wasn’t going to take kindly to secrets being kept within his unit. Despite Richmond’s supportive words, this was not a conversation he was looking forward to having.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Michael found Locke in the waiting area downstairs, just finishing a phone call. He indicated for Michael to sit across from him.

 

“What’s Scott’s condition?” he asked straight away.

 

Michael quickly ran through everything Doctor Mahathir said, bringing Locke up to speed, including taking Damien away for several days.

 

“And after we get back to London he’s on leave for several weeks,” Michael added. “You owe him that, after what you put him through,” Michael said forcefully, not caring if he was out of line with his superior officer. Not after Damien almost died fulfilling his duty to Section 20.

 

“You’d do well not to forget who is in charge of this unit, Sergeant,” Locke bristled, leaning forward.

 

Michael refused to back down at the rebuke, not breaking eye contact with the Colonel. A tense minute later Michael won the stare-down, Locke sitting back in his chair.

 

“The mission comes first, Michael. You know that,” Locke said, his tone less hostile, but still firm. “We are _all_ expendable. So I won’t apologize for asking you both to do your duty.” He paused. “But I will admit that things with Scott went too far. He’ll get as much leave as he needs.” Locke leaned forward again. “I assume you’ll be wanting the same, what with your…relationship.”

 

Michael glanced away, then back, all of the air now taken out of him. “Boss…” he started, but Locke held up a hand.

 

“What the two of you do is none of my business, unless it starts to affect your performance in this unit,” Locke told him. “Just tell me, Michael – is it wise for the two of you to be involved? I wasn’t in command when your wife was killed, but I know what it did to you. The same thing it did to me when my son was killed. It nearly tore me apart. And I’ve seen how you were on this mission, with Scott. Can you really tell me you’re prepared to eventually lose him, too?”

 

Michael swallowed heavily, letting Locke’s words wash over him, along with Richmond’s. “All I know is, everyone deserves to find happiness and someone to share our lives with,” he replied. “Who else would understand this life we live if not someone else in it as well?” He stood. “And it wouldn’t matter if Damien and I were involved or not. I still wouldn’t be prepared to lose him.”

 


	10. CHAPTER TEN

## CHAPTER TEN

 

 

Three hours later, Michael and Damien were in a Section 20 truck, heading west, toward the Indian Ocean, just as the sun was starting to rise.

 

Richmond had come through with a CIA safe house on the coast, and she and Martinez had taken it upon themselves to stock the truck with food, clothes, toiletries and other supplies Michael and Damien would need for the next several days.

 

Michael looked over at Damien, who dozed in the passenger seat and recalled what Locke had said to him just before they left the hospital.

 

_“None of Section 20 is leaving until we can all go home. Together. Take care of our boy, Michael.”_

 

Which is exactly what Michael planned on doing. No matter how hard it got.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

An hour after leaving the hospital Michael pulled the truck down a long drive lined on either side by lush trees and other vegetation. At the end of the drive was a modest size house and Michael nodded in appreciation at the dwelling and the location. The CIA knew how to keep people hidden and off the beaten path.

 

Michael reached over and gently squeezed Damien’s shoulder, waking his sleeping partner. Damien lifted his head and Michael could see the tiredness still in his blue eyes. All he wanted to do was get him inside and in bed so he could get some proper rest.

 

“We’re here,” Michael told him.

 

Damien cleared his throat and looked out the windshield. “Home sweet home, eh?”

 

Michael nodded. “Yeah. Looks nice. Let’s get you inside and then I’ll unpack the truck.”

 

Damien climbed slowly and carefully out of the truck, his weariness apparent with every step, Michael right by his side with a supportive hand on his back. They paused at the front door and Michael pulled out the hidden key right where Christy Bryant said it would be. He unlocked the door and they both stepped inside.

 

“This is a safe house?” Michael asked incredulously.

 

Beside him, Damien chuckled. “No. This is _Christy Bryant’s_ house when she’s in country. I thought I recognized it when we pulled up.”

 

“She’s letting you stay in her own house? Well, aren’t we the teacher’s pet,” Michael teased, then laughed when Damien gave him the finger in reply.

 

Michael looked around and took in his surroundings. While it wasn’t a large home it made use of the space well by having a completely open floor plan. To the right of the front door was a well-equipped kitchen and opposite that was a table and four chairs. Two steps down was the living area on the left, with a couch, two chairs and a table, and on the opposite wall was a king size bed, two nightstands and a dresser. A door to the right of the bed led to a bathroom. There were fans overhead with long blades, dropped down from the high ceiling. The far wall was made up of floor to ceiling windows, with a set of glass doors in the middle. The view was spectacular. They were right on the beach, with trees on either side of the patio area, complete with hammock, fire pit, a table with two chairs and a hot tub.

 

Michael laughed. “Oh, you are _so_ the teacher’s pet, mate!”

 

Damien reached out and slapped Michael across the stomach in annoyance, which only made Michael laugh more.

 

“Okay, come on,” Michael said, putting an arm around Damien’s shoulders. “Let’s get you settled.”

 

He led his partner over to the bed and sat him down on it, Damien blowing out a tired breath as he did so. He helped Damien undress down to his underwear and pulled back the sheet on the bed.

 

“I’ll get the fans going and open the doors, get some air in here,” Michael told him as Damien moved up the bed and lay his head down on the pillows. Michael lay his hand on Damien’s head, his thumb rubbing gently as his partner’s eyes closed. “Get some rest,” he said quietly.

 

Michael spent the better part of the next hour opening up the house and unpacking the truck. Richmond and Martinez had done an excellent job and he and Damien would be well prepared for the next several days. The ladies even had a sense of humor as Michael found two pairs of speedos in among the clothes. Michael found himself actually wanting to use them because it meant Damien would be well enough to go swimming.

 

Finished, Michael filled a tall glass with ice cold water from the kitchen sink and drank it down without stopping. He sighed gratefully at the cold liquid and filled up another glass and took it with him over to the couch. He glanced over at the bed as he sat down, pleased to see Damien was sleeping soundly.

 

The moment Michael stopped moving exhaustion swept over him like one of the ocean waves crashing up onto the beach. He looked at his watch as he drank the second glass of water. It had been nearly twenty-four hours since he’d last slept and he’d been running on nothing but adrenaline since he’d rescued Damien. He really needed to change out of his black fatigues he still wore but he felt himself start to crash and had just enough energy to remove his combat boots before he tipped sideways on the couch, his eyes closing. He fell asleep to the steady sound of his partner’s breathing and the ocean lapping at the beach.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Unfortunately, Michael woke to a much more unpleasant sound several hours later.

 

Damien was groaning in his sleep, his whole body moving restlessly, breathing hard. He had kicked off the sheet at some point and Michael could see his body was covered in sweat.

 

“Shit,” he breathed, rubbing a hand over his face. The withdrawal was starting. He recalled Doctor Mahathir’s words.

 

_“You should expect nausea, vomiting, extreme sweating, fever and cold chills when it begins.”_

 

He stood and quickly went over to the kitchen counter, where he had put Damien’s liquid medication. He poured out the prescribed dose in the little plastic cup and went over to the bed. He placed the cup on the nightstand and then gently shook Damien’s shoulder.

 

“Damien. Damien, wake up.”

 

After a minute Damien’s eyes fluttered open and Michael could see the pain reflected in their blue depths.

 

“Mike…” Damien breathed, then grimaced, clutching at his stomach.

 

Michael grabbed for the small trash can at the side of the bed just in time. What little was in Damien’s stomach came up until he was dry heaving and coughing. Michael eased him back down on the bed, his brows drawing together in concern at Damien’s chalk white skin. He could feel Damien trembling, his body slick with sweat. He stood and went into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator then into the bathroom for a wet washcloth before going back to the bed. Damien’s eyes were closed and he was still breathing rapidly.

 

“Damien? Can you open your eyes for me?” Michael asked, his hand on Damien’s cheek.

 

With effort Damien did and Michael nodded his head. “Can you sit up?” he asked next and with some assistance from Michael, Damien rested up against the headboard. Michael handed Damien the bottle of water. “Here, rinse your mouth out,” he said, then held up the trashcan again for Damien to spit into. “Can you drink a little of that for me?” he asked. “You’re dehydrated.” Damien gave him a weak nod and managed a few sips before handing the bottle back to Michael. He rested his head back against the headboard as Michael ran the cool washcloth over his bruised face and chest.

 

“Feel like I’m…burning up,” Damien rasped.

 

“You’re running a fever,” Michael told him. “We need to get your temperature down. I’m going to run a cool bath for you. I’ll be right back,” he said and left the washcloth resting on Damien’s chest.

 

It took effort to get Damien out of bed and across the short distance to the bathroom, but he was soon submerged in cool water, eyes closed, head resting on a rolled up towel. Michael sat on the toilet, his hand on Damien’s head, his fingers gently massaging, his face a mask of worry.

 

A good fifteen minutes later Damien finally stirred and opened his eyes, his skin no longer so pale and cooler to Michael’s touch.

 

“Hey,” Michael said quietly. “How’re you feeling?”

 

“Better,” Damien answered tiredly.

 

“Sit tight for a few more minutes. I want to change the sheets on the bed and then we’ll get you dried off and back in bed.”

 

Once Damien was dry and in a pair of lightweight pajama bottoms and back in bed, Michael sat beside him. He reached over to the nightstand and picked up the liquid methadone.

 

“The doctor wants you to take this,” he told Damien. “It’ll help with the withdrawal symptoms. But the side effect is, you can become highly addicted to the methadone. I’m leaving it up to you if you want to take it or not.”

 

Damien shook his head. “No. No way in hell am I going to trade one addiction for another.”

 

“Are you sure? I don’t want to see you suffer any more than you have to.”

 

Damien nodded. “I can’t take the chance, Mike. I don’t feel like I’m strong enough to resist the pull of something else.”

 

“Okay. We’ll do this your way,” Michael replied, and set the medication back down on the nightstand. “But if you are going to beat this, you need to _be_ strong enough. You need to start eating.”

 

Damien grimaced again. “I can’t, Mike.”

 

“I’m not asking you to have a steak dinner. Just some soup. Try? Please?”

 

Damien blew out a breath and after a moment’s hesitation, he nodded.

 

Michael leaned over and kissed his forehead. “Thank you.”

 

Michael then busied himself with first cleaning out the trash can and then preparing Damien’s soup and a sandwich for himself, suddenly realizing how hungry he was. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten.

 

While Michael ate his lunch much more enthusiastically than Damien did, Michael was pleased by how much of the soup his partner was able to eat. A few sips of water and Damien pushed the tray back.

 

“Satisfied, Mom?” he cracked and Michael smiled. There was a spark of the old Damien.

 

“Yes, son,” Michael answered as he gathered up the tray. “Now be a good little boy and take a nap while I take a quick shower.”

 

Damien gave him his patented middle finger reply and Michael grinned as he went to the kitchen to clean their dishes as Damien rolled over and closed his eyes.

 

 

Michael emerged from the shower a short time later in just his boxer briefs, a cloud of steam trailing behind him. It had felt good to let the hot water wash away some of the stress. He thought the shower would leave him feeling awake and refreshed, but it relaxed him so much all he wanted to do was lay down and close his eyes. He really needed to get his sleep/wake cycle back on track.

 

Damien rolled over as Michael went to walk past the bed, heading for the couch, deciding to sleep there instead of disturbing his partner.

 

“Mike?” Damien murmured and held out his hand in invitation.

 

Michael accepted without hesitation, wanting nothing more at that moment than to hold Damien in his arms. He slid under the sheet and Damien molded his body to him, resting his head against Michael’s shoulder and neck. Michael’s arms went around him and he swallowed hard against the sudden lump in his throat. He had come so close to losing Damien.

 

“Mike?” Damien said softly.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice rough. “Thank you for being here. I know this isn’t going to be easy and I’m sorry I’m putting you through this. But I couldn’t do this without you.”

 

Michael swallowed hard again and held Damien tighter. “That’s what partners are for, right? We take care of one another. No matter what. You’d do the same for me.”

 

Michael felt Damien smile. “Damn straight I would,” he answered, then blew out a long breath and settled against Michael, letting sleep pull him under.

 

Michael lay awake for awhile longer, once again listening to the ocean and his partner breathing. He gradually became aware that Damien’s skin felt warmer than it should be and he frowned. Damn. The fever appeared to be coming back. He’d hoped they’d gotten past that. He reached up and brushed his thumb across Damien’s cheek. Looked like they still had a long road ahead of them.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

It was completely dark out the next time Michael woke, pulled from sleep by Damien’s movement next to him. He blinked open his eyes and let them adjust to the darkness and the moonlight streaming in through the tall, wide windows.

 

Michael looked to his right. At some point Damien had rolled away from him and was now curled in on himself, shivering uncontrollably.

 

“Shit,” Michael breathed and put his hand on Damien’s shoulder. It was once again damp with sweat. “Damien? Can you hear me?”

 

“I’m cold, Mike. I’m so c-cold,” Damien slurred.

 

Michael slid from the bed and quickly went into the bathroom, pulling open the linen closet door, where he found a blanket on the top shelf. He hurried back to the bed and rolled his trembling partner toward him, then covered him with the blanket, holding him close as he shook from the cold sweats.

 

“Mike…” Damien panted, his hands curling in the blanket.

 

“It’s okay,” Michael reassured him, rubbing a hand up and down Damien’s back. “I’ve got you. Try and relax, let your body go limp. You’ll be warm soon.”

 

The combination of the blanket and Michael’s body heat eventually calmed Damien’s shaking until he was an exhausted, heavy weight along Michael’s side. Michael rested his cheek on the top of Damien’s head, blinking his eyes against the moisture suddenly filling them. It tore at him to see Damien suffering like this, knowing there was absolutely nothing he could do to ease his pain.

 

He’d never felt more helpless.


	11. CHAPTER ELEVEN

## CHAPTER ELEVEN

 

 

With a quiet groan, Michael blinked open his eyes in the morning, squinting against the sunlight. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and rested his head in his hands. He’d hoped that after Damien had gotten through the cold sweats he’d be able to sleep through the night. But instead he’d been restless, moving about, mumbling in his sleep, keeping Michael awake as well. He’d almost gone and slept on the couch, to give Damien more room, but was afraid that his partner might need him again. So he’d stayed. What little sleep he did get was plagued by nightmares, of him and Richmond arriving too late at Seng’s house and finding Damien, unable to revive him. Of holding his lifeless body in his arms and screaming.

 

Michael rubbed his eyes and lifted his head then pushed himself up and padded into the kitchen, leaving a finally sleeping Damien in the bed. He was actually desperate enough for coffee this morning, needing the caffeine, forgoing his usual morning tea. How in the hell the American’s drank the bitter liquid by the gallons was beyond him.

 

The smell of the brewing coffee seemed to rouse Damien. He rolled over and blinked up at Michael.

 

“Morning, sunshine,” Michael smiled. “How’re you feeling?”

 

Damien closed his eyes and grimaced. “My head is killing me.”

 

“Hang on, I saw some aspirin in the bathroom,” Michael told him, then went to fetch the bottle of pills and a glass of water.

 

He put the glass on the nightstand then sat next to Damien on the bed. He started to unscrew the cap on the bottle when Damien snatched it out of his hands.

 

“I can get it myself,” he snapped and Michael’s brows furrowed at his irritable tone.

 

“Yeah, of course,” Michael replied, standing up again as Damien shook out two pills into his hand. “I’m going to get breakfast started. You feel up to taking a shower? Might make you feel a bit better.”

 

Damien shrugged as he swallowed the pills and drank the water. He pushed the sheet down and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He wavered when he stood and Michael was there with a hand on his arm and another on his back, steadying him. He blinked in surprise when Damien shook off his touch and pulled away from him.

 

“I’m fine! I don’t need your help,” he bit out then pushed past Michael.

 

Michael raised his hands up in the air and took a step backward, watching as his partner walked unsteadily into the bathroom and closed the door behind him. Michael forced himself to not get angry at Damien’s attitude this morning. It had been a rough night for them both and neither of them felt up to par. He hoped the shower would do Damien some good, clear his head.

 

Michael had gotten dressed in an olive green t-shirt and black shorts and had scrambled eggs and toast ready by the time Damien emerged from the shower, a towel wrapped around his waist. He hoped he could entice his partner into eating something more significant than soup today. He set their plates down on the table as Damien pulled on a pair of khaki shorts and a dark blue t-shirt. Michael put his mug of coffee down next to his plate and a glass of orange juice for Damien.

 

“Come on, mate. Sit down and have some breakfast with me,” Michael encouraged him, and after a moment’s hesitation Damien joined him at the table.

 

He was glad to see Damien’s appearance improving. He’d removed the two butterfly bandages and the swelling next to his eye had nearly subsided. The bruises were still there but starting to slowly fade. He’d forgone trying to shave around his injured jaw, so his stubble was heavier than normal. There were still dark circles under his eyes from the lack of any restful sleep and he could tell the headache hadn’t dissipated by the crease between his eyes and the way he rubbed at his temple.

 

Michael cleaned his plate of his breakfast and sipped at his coffee while Damien managed a few forkfuls of eggs and a bite of toast. Michael frowned when Damien sat back and pushed his plate away.

 

“Can you try and eat a little more?” Michael asked gently and was unprepared for the explosion that followed.

 

“Back off, Michael!” Damien yelled, sweeping his hand out and sending his glass of orange juice flying off the table and onto the floor, where it shattered, liquid splashing everywhere.

 

“Oi!” Michael jumped up in disbelief at his partner’s action. “Bloody hell, Damien!”

 

It was like a switch suddenly flipped and all the anger drained from Damien’s face. He looked down at the mess on the floor and back at Michael. “I’m – I’m sorry, Mike,” he apologized sincerely. “I don’t know what…” he trailed off, confusion in his blue eyes, rubbing at his temple again.

 

Michael shook his head, his anger dissipating as well. He put his hand on Damien’s shoulder and squeezed. “It’s okay. No harm done,” Michael reassured him. “I know you’re still not yourself. Why don’t you go relax on the couch while I clean this up?”

 

Damien nodded and did as Michael said, sitting down heavily on the couch, closing his eyes and tipping his head back. Michael watched him with concern as he started to clean up the broken glass. Damien in a volatile state was never a good thing.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

There was no television in the house, but there was a good selection of books, one of which Michael chose and settled himself in one of the chairs. The overhead fans were going and he’d opened up the glass doors, letting in the breeze from the ocean. He could almost fool himself that he was on holiday. If not for his agitated partner across from him.

 

After breakfast, Damien had taken another two aspirin and stretched out on the couch with his eyes closed. He lay quietly for some time before sitting up with a frustrated breath. He’d tried reading as well then, but it became quickly apparent that he couldn’t focus, his restlessness growing. He randomly flipped through the pages of a photography book that was laying on the table, his leg jumping until he finally stood and started to pace across the living area, his hands now clenching and unclenching.

 

Michael’s concern continued to grow as Damien walked back and forth in front of him. He could see the beads of sweat on his forehead and the damp patch on his back between his shoulder blades. He was about to suggest they go for a walk to try and calm Damien down when Michael’s phone rang. He picked it up off the coffee table and looked at the display.

 

“It’s Richmond,” he told Damien, then stepped outside to take the call.

 

_“Michael, Hi,”_ came her voice. _“Just wanted to check in, see how things were going.”_

 

Michael blew out a breath. “It’s been rough, honestly. He’s in a bad way, Julia.”

 

Michael heard her sigh. _“Is there anything I can do?”_

 

“No, you and Kim have been brilliant, getting us set up here, the clothes and food. We’re good. We just need to ride this out.”

 

_“Well if you need anything, or just someone to talk to, I’m here.”_

 

Michael smiled. “Cheers. I appreciate –“

 

A sudden crash from inside the house had Michael whirling around in alarm. He quickly spied Damien in the kitchen, tearing open drawers and throwing their contents onto the floor.

 

“Shit!” he swore and ended the call with Richmond.

 

He sprinted back into the house, more of Doctor Mahathir’s words coming back to him.

 

_“When the cravings for the heroin reach their peak, he may become violent, accusing you of hiding and withholding the drugs from him. I’m giving you a sedative in the event he becomes a danger to you or to himself.”_

“Damien! Stop!” Michael yelled.

 

But his partner ignored him, pulling open another drawer and throwing the silverware out in his search for non-existent drugs.

 

Michael grabbed one of Damien’s arms and Damien yanked it away, turning on Michael.

 

“ _Where is it?_ ” he demanded, shouting, turning back to open another drawer, tearing through its contents.

 

Michael snatched up the small black case from the counter that Doctor Mahathir had given him. He withdrew one of the two filled syringes and slipped it into his shirt pocket.

 

He reached for his partner again, trying to calm him down. “There’s nothing here, Damien.”

 

“Liar!” Damien yelled and Michael’s breath caught at the frenzied, fevered look on his face, his glassy eyes.

 

He snagged Damien’s wrist and didn’t let go this time when Damien tried to pull away.

 

“Give it to me!” Damien shouted. “Why are you hiding it from me?”

 

Michael shook his head. “I’m not –“

 

Michael cut himself off as Damien let out an angry yell and swung a wild punch at him. Michael was forced to release Damien’s wrist to avoid his partner’s fist, which would have caught him right in the face. He stumbled back a step, hitting the refrigerator, nearly losing his footing on the items strewn about on the floor. Just as he straightened up, Damien grabbed a coffee mug off the counter and hurled it at Michael’s head. Michael dropped to a crouch and the mug smashed into the refrigerator.

 

Keeping low, Michael went at Damien like an American football player, ducking under his partner’s arms and catching him around his middle. Damien’s back hit the edge of the counter and both of them slid to the floor. Damien’s fists began pummeling at Michael’s arms and chest as Michael got Damien first onto his back then flipped over onto his stomach, straddling his waist. Damien tried to buck him off, yelling angrily and Michael was amazed at the strength the desperate craving for the heroin gave him.

 

“Please, Mike, please,” Damien pleaded with him, breathing hard. “I just need a little bit. Just a little and I’ll be fine…”

 

Michael quickly pulled the syringe out of his pocket and used his mouth to pull off the cap, which he spit out onto the floor.

 

He swallowed hard. “I’m so sorry, mate,” he said, voice rough, then injected Damien with the sedative.

 

“I need it, Mike, I need it…” Damien mumbled as his eyes closed moments later, succumbing to the effects of the sedative.

 

Michael slid off of Damien’s body then, slumping against the counter next to him, his face in his hands, gutted to the core by what had just transpired. A lump formed in his throat as he lifted his head and looked at his partner, lying there unconscious. Damien’s face was drawn, flushed and wet with sweat, battered and bruised with dark circles under his eyes that had looked at him with such pain and desperation.

 

Damien was the strongest, bravest man Michael had ever known, now reduced to this broken soldier before him.

 

All because of duty and loyalty to his unit and his mission. Michael wished for nothing more than to have Kenji Seng standing before him so he could kill him all over again. But slowly this time. And painfully. He didn’t deserve such a quick death the bullet from Michael’s gun had given him. Not when he was causing Damien so much suffering. For the first time Michael feared that Damien had been shattered into too many pieces to ever be put back together again.

 

His chest constricted at the thought, the grief and anger inside him suddenly too much to contain any longer. He grabbed for Damien’s hand and held on tight as he broke down, the first sob tearing through him. He cried for Damien, who was fighting a battle he might not be able to win and he cried for the two of them, wondering how they’d survive if Damien didn’t.

 

He cried until there was nothing left inside him, until his eyes ran dry and his throat burned. He gathered Damien into his arms then and held him tight, wishing he could take his place, but instead willing every ounce of strength he had into him, the only thing he could do.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Two hours later a soft sound from Damien had Michael stirring from where he’d been laying on the couch, trying to get some rest. After he’d composed himself he’d carried Damien from the kitchen to the bed and gotten him settled. He’d sat next to his sleeping partner, just watching over him until the ringing of his phone disturbed him. It was Richmond, calling back for the third time, worried about the way Michael had just hung up earlier, ready to jump in a car with Martinez and come out to the house. Michael was touched by his teammates concern and reassured her everything was fine, not going into details about Damien’s breakdown, respecting his partner’s privacy. He’d gone to lay down on the couch after he ended the call, feeling a headache starting to pound in his temples.

 

He sat up now, rubbing at his dry and tired eyes, hearing Damien shifting around again. He made his way over to the bed and kneeled down next to it just as Damien opened his eyes. He blinked at Michael several times and Michael could see the confusion on his face turn into shame as he remembered what had happened. His eyes filled with emotion and he reached out for Michael, who took his hand.

 

“I’m so sorry, Mike,” he whispered roughly. “Did I hurt you?”

 

Michael shook his head. “No, mate, I’m fine. How are you?” he asked, glad to see that Damien was no longer sweating and his eyes were clear.

 

Damien swallowed. “Better, I guess. How did I get over here? Did I pass out?”

 

It was Michael’s turn to look ashamed. “No. I had to sedate you. I’m sorry, Damien. I didn’t want to…”

 

Damien squeezed Michael’s hand. “It’s okay. I needed it. I was out of my head. Do you have any more?”

 

“One more dose,” Michael replied.

 

“Good. I might need it,” Damien said. “I can still feel it, the craving, in my head.” He rubbed at his temple and winced.

 

Michael’s forehead furrowed with concern. “Can you sit up? I want you to drink some water. Then let’s get you outside, get some fresh air. Lay with me on the hammock for a bit.”

 

Damien nodded and with a groan pushed himself upright as Michael grabbed two bottles of water from the refrigerator, frowning at the mess on the floor that still needed to be cleaned up. But that was the least of his concerns right now. Taking care of Damien was his first priority.

 

Damien drank down nearly the entire bottle of water before nodding at Michael, who helped him stand and the two of them made their way outside. Damien lifted his face up to the sun and took a deep breath of the warm ocean air as they walked over to the hammock. It took a bit of skillful arranging and balancing, but soon Damien was settled on his back between Michael’s spread legs, his head resting on Michael’s chest.

 

Damien closed his eyes with a sigh as Michael began massaging his temples. “Feels good,” he murmured.

 

“Locke said we’ll be on leave when you’re healthy again,” Michael told him, wanting to keep his partner distracted from his pain. “What do you want to do?”

 

Damien thought for a moment. “Finish our road trip,” he answered. “We never did make it down to Mexico. And from there, who knows? Just ride off into the sunset,” he joked.

 

Michael’s hands dropped down to Damien’s shoulders as he considered what Damien had just said. “We could you know. Ride off into the sunset,” he said seriously. “Leave Section 20. This life.”

 

Damien twisted around to look up at Michael. “And do what, Mike?” he asked. “We’re soldiers. Have been since we were both eighteen. This is all we know how to do.”

 

Michael’s jaw tightened. He knew Damien was right. He rested a hand on the side of Damien’s face, his voice somber. “I just don’t want it to be the _last_ thing we ever do.”

 


	12. CHAPTER TWELVE

## CHAPTER TWELVE

 

 

The third day at the beach house dawned as clear and bright as the previous two.

 

Michael stretched and let out a sigh as he opened his eyes to the morning, finally feeling refreshed. He turned his head to the right to see his partner still sleeping beside him. Damien had finally slept soundly throughout the night, and as a consequence so had Michael. He hoped that with the uninterrupted sleep Damien would be feeling much better today than he had yesterday.

 

After spending time out on the hammock yesterday afternoon, Damien had insisted upon helping Michael clean up the kitchen. He said he needed to keep himself distracted from the residual feeling of the heroin craving.

 

So Michael did his best to keep his partner occupied. They talked about anything and everything. Even working so closely together for the past four years, there was still much about each other they didn’t know. They played poker with a deck of cards Michael found, Michael losing solidly to Damien with each game. Throughout the afternoon and into the evening Damien would grow agitated for short periods of time as he fought against his body’s desire for the heroin. Each time Michael was able to calm him down without any outbursts of physical violence. Damien’s headache continued to get progressively worse, however, and he ended up lying on the couch, his head in Michael’s lap, a cool washcloth on his forehead. By the time they went to bed, exhaustion was written all over Damien from his day-long battle. Which was most likely why he finally slept through the night.

 

Michael tried to slip quietly from the bed so as to not disturb Damien, but his movements roused him and Damien’s eyes fluttered open.

 

“Sorry,” Michael apologized quietly. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

 

“S’okay,” Damien murmured, then grimaced as he shifted, straightening out his legs.

 

Michael frowned. “What is it?”

 

Damien moved again, with the same result. “Every muscle in my body is killing me. Like they’re all cramping up.”

 

Michael’s brows furrowed. Shortly before they went to bed last night Damien had complained of the same thing. Michael had written it off to the long, emotionally draining day they’d had, with Damien so tense and agitated, along with the physical exertion from the tussle they’d had in the kitchen. But if the condition still lingered it must be another side effect of the withdrawal. He could tell Damien was thinking the same thing, could see the tiredness and frustration in his blue eyes.

 

Damien pounded his fist weakly against the mattress. “I’m so tired of this, Mike,” he breathed, his eyes closing briefly. “I just want this to be over.”

 

“I know you do,” Michael replied sympathetically. He squeezed Damien’s hand. “I think you’re finally on the back end of this, that yesterday was the worst part. And you made it through.”

 

Damien squeezed back. “Because of you,” he replied, voice gruff. “You’re keeping me sane, Mike. Thank you.”

 

“I just wish there was more that I could do for you.”

 

“Just keep doing what you’ve been doing for the last four years.”

 

Michael cocked his head to the side. “What’s that?”

 

“Letting me be vulnerable and never thinking I’m weak.” He squeezed Michael’s hand again and Michael could see unshed tears in his eyes. “You’re the only person I’ve ever trusted enough to let my guard down with.”

 

Michael swallowed hard, moved by Damien’s words. He pulled Damien to him, embracing him tightly. “It goes both ways. I hope you know that,” he said quietly, and he felt Damien nod, his fingers flexing on Michael’s bare back. Michael smiled softly and rubbed a hand up and down his partner’s back. Damien groaned and Michael stopped his movement. “I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?”

 

Damien shook his head. “No, that felt really good, actually,” he replied and an idea came to Michael.

 

He moved back from the embrace. “What say we have some breakfast and afterward we get you in the hot tub. The warm water should help ease the muscle aches. Then I can give you a rubdown.” He grinned. “Richmond and Martinez were kind enough to pack speedos for both of us.”

 

A mischievous glint replaced the tiredness in Damien’s eyes. He thrust his hips upward. “You should know by now that a speedo can’t contain me,” he smirked.

 

Michael barked out a laugh. “Now for sure I know the drugs have made you delusional!”

 

It was worth getting hit in the face with a pillow to see Damien smile.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

An hour later Michael took the cover off the hot tub and fired up the jets while Damien put their dishes in the sink. Michael had been pleased to see that his partner’s appetite had returned, Damien having finished three-quarters of his breakfast this morning, and his whole glass of orange juice.

 

His chore finished, Damien made his way outside, still wearing his pajama bottoms, like Michael was. Michael noticed he walked slowly, grimacing, his leg muscles protesting the movement. On top of the bath towels Michael had procured from the bathroom, he’d placed the red and blue speedos. Damien gave him a look, then stripped down naked and carefully got into the hot tub while Michael chuckled. Michael removed his own sleep pants and tossed them next to the towels on the table then joined his partner in the hot water.

 

Damien sighed gratefully as he submerged himself up to his neck. “Sometimes you come up with good ideas, Mike,” he winked.

 

“Oh, just sometimes, eh?” Michael grinned.

 

He held his arm up and Damien fitted himself against him as they both relaxed back against the side of the hot tub. A comfortable silence fell over them for the next long while as they closed their eyes and let the hot water and bubbles do their work on sore and tired muscles.

 

Michael finally stirred when he felt his fingers start to wrinkle. He turned and kissed Damien on his temple. “How’re you feeling?” he asked.

 

Damien shifted to look at him. “Better,” he answered, moving his arms and legs. “Not so tight.”

 

Michael nodded. “Besides the muscles, how’re you doing? Your face is looking better. The swelling’s gone. And I was glad to see you ate more this morning.”

 

“Yeah, I was actually kind of hungry,” Damien answered, then touched his face. “It’s still a little tender, but not bad. And my headache’s gone. I don’t feel those cravings for the heroin. Some good news for a change, eh?”

 

Michael smiled. He could still see that Damien was tired, but things were finally looking up. And then he frowned as he remembered some not-so-good news that he needed to share with his partner.

 

“Speaking of news,” he began. “Locke knows about us. Hell, pretty much all of Section 20 knows. They found the surveillance photos Kenji’s man took of us on the sidewalk.”

 

“Cat’s out of the bag, huh?” Damien replied. “How’d the boss take it?”

 

Michael thought of the conversation he’d had with Locke, of his parting words about losing Damien. “Better than I thought. As long as we keep our heads in the game what we do is our business,” is all he said.

 

Damien snorted. “I think I can manage to keep my hands off you in the middle of a gun fight.”

 

Michael rolled his eyes in response. “Since you brought up hands, let’s get out of here before we shrivel up into raisins and I’ll give you that rubdown.”

 

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Damien grinned, then levered himself up and out of the hot tub, Michael right behind him.

 

They dried themselves off and went back inside, where Damien stretched out on the bed, face down, still naked. Michael grabbed a pair of dark green shorts, pulled them on and then joined his partner on the bed, on his knees, straddling Damien’s legs. He bent over and put his hands on Damien’s shoulders, his skin still warm from the hot tub.

 

“Let me know if I’m hurting you,” he told Damien as he began to gently knead his shoulders.

 

Damien let out a long groan of approval as an answer. A smile touched Michael’s mouth and he continued his ministrations, working his way down Damien’s entire body, from shoulders to feet. He nudged Damien then and his partner rolled over.

 

“I take it back,” Damien mumbled, smiling. “If this soldiering thing doesn’t work out you’ve got a second career as a masseuse.”

 

Michael chuckled. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he answered as he picked up Damien’s right arm and began kneading it gently. He stopped when his fingers touched the Thai characters tattooed on Damien’s inner forearm. “I remember you getting this when we were on our roadtrip in California. What do they stand for?”

 

The smile left Damien’s face and his expression darkened, his jaw tightening. “They mean ‘courage’ and ‘strength’. Both of which I have none of,” he said disgustedly, looking away from Michael.

 

“How the hell can you say that?” Michael asked, confused.

 

Damien snapped his head back to look at Michael, angry. “Look at me, Mike! If I was so courageous and strong I wouldn’t be laying here like a helpless kid, with you having to take care of me!”

 

Michael shook his head, angry now, too. “I don’t want to hear that. You’re the fucking strongest man I know, Damien.”

 

Damien swallowed hard and Michael could see the sudden shame on his face. “I wasn’t strong, Mike. I was _scared_ and I was _weak_. Scared of how good I felt on the heroin. It was the adrenaline rush of a mission without any of the fear and I wanted more of it. I should’ve been able to fight it. And I couldn’t.”

 

“That’s bollocks and you know it,” Michael said fiercely. “Don’t you fucking dare blame yourself. It was a chemical reaction in your body. You _couldn’t_ fight it. _No one_ could.” Michael’s voice softened and he lay a hand on Damien’s chest. “And if you had no courage you’d have given up long ago instead of fighting so bloody hard to beat this.”

 

The silence in the room was deafening and charged with emotion, hazel eyes locked with blue. Until Damien blinked. His mouth quirked in a half grin.

 

“Forget the masseuse. Your true calling is motivational speaker.”

 

And just like that, the tension in the room was diffused. Michael shook his head in exasperation and huffed out a laugh.

 

“Then watch me motivate your ass back into fighting shape. You hear me, soldier?”

 

Damien smiled up at him. “Copy that, Sergeant.”

 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Despite Michael’s best efforts, Damien’s muscle pain returned that afternoon. His partner tried resting on the bed for awhile but couldn’t sleep and shifted uncomfortably as his muscles cramped. Another thought came to Michael that might give Damien more temporary relief. If the hot water worked, why not the sun?

 

He walked over to the bed and held out his hand. “Let’s go outside,” he told Damien. “We’re here on this gorgeous beach and we haven’t taken advantage of it. I think laying in the sun for awhile will do you some good.”

 

Damien blew out a breath. “Sure, why not?” he replied and took Michael’s offered hand. When he stood up Michael could see the fine lines of fatigue still around Damien’s eyes.

 

“Why don’t you grab a couple towels and I’ll get some water –“ Michael was interrupted by the sound of his phone ringing. He went over to the table in the living room and picked it up. “It’s Martinez,” he told Damien. “Go on outside, I’ll be there in a minute.”

 

Damien nodded and Michael turned around to answer the call. “Kim, hey,” he smiled.

 

_“I hope Julia and I aren’t being a bother, Michael, checking in again. We’re all just worried about Damien. Wondering how he’s doing. How you’re both doing.”_

 

“No of course not,” Michael replied sincerely. “And things are better. I think the worst part is finally behind us. He’s still tired, but he’s improving.”

 

_“That’s fantastic,”_ she replied and Michael could hear her smile. _“I’ll let Locke and Julia know. They’ll be glad to hear it.”_ She paused. _“I’m glad you’re there for him, Michael. We all are.”_

 

“So am I. He’s a fighter, but I couldn’t imagine trying to go through this on your own.”

 

_“We hope to see you both soon. We actually miss you,”_ she joked.

 

“Yeah, cheers for that,” Michael laughed. “Thanks for calling, Kim. I’ll let Damien know you were asking after him.”

 

_“Take care, Michael,”_ she replied and ended the call.

 

Michael set his phone down with a smile. He truly couldn’t ask for a better team. He and Damien were lucky to have such a support system, watching each other’s backs both on mission and off.

 

He glanced outside as he went to the refrigerator to grab a couple bottles of water and saw Damien already stretched out on the sand, his face up into the sun, another towel laid out beside him.

 

Michael didn’t realize what Damien was wearing until he stepped off the end of the patio and out onto the beach. The little red speedo. He knew Damien had meant it as a joke, clearly showing off that yes, you really couldn’t contain him with such a small piece of material, but the sight sent a surge of arousal flooding through Michael’s body. It hit him hard how much he’d missed their intimacy over these past long days. But he would never push Damien for something he might not be ready for, after what he went through at Seng’s hands. They were playing by his partner’s rules as he recovered. He just hoped that what they had between them could be healed as well. He couldn’t stand the thought of Kenji Seng winning from beyond the grave.

 

He shook off the thought, and his arousal, and went to join his partner out on the sand. He stopped next to him and looked down at Damien.

 

“Posing for a centerfold, are we? Guns and Ammo, perhaps?” he joked.

 

Damien pushed Michael’s sunglasses up onto his forehead. “Nah, I’m thinking of starting up a calendar for Section 20,” he smirked. “Just call me Mr. October.”

 

Michael laughed as he lay down on his towel beside his partner, the sand warm on his back. “You know, that’s not a bad idea,” he joked. “What with all the budget cutbacks we could sell them to raise money for ammo.”

 

Damien let out a bark of laughter. “Now you’re thinking, Mike! I think Richmond and Martinez would look hot in bikinis,” he winked.

 

Michael was getting into this now. “And what about Locke in a thong?” he cracked.

 

The two of them looked at each other, visualizing the sight of their boss, and at the same time gave an exaggerated shudder before they both burst out laughing.

 

Michael reached out and took Damien’s hand, his heart swelling as he watched his partner able to joke and smile. With each wisecrack and laugh, his Damien was coming back to him.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Damien pushed back his empty dinner plate with a satisfied sound and lay a hand on his stomach as Michael nodded in approval. The time spent out on the beach in the sun had done Damien wonders. His too pale skin was now pink, that Michael knew would turn into a soft brown tan. The muscle aches had all but disappeared and Damien moved around much more easily now. And for the first time since arriving at the house, he’d eaten an entire meal.

 

“Did you want more?” Michael asked, ready to get up from the patio table where they were eating and go back over to the grill and put on another marinated chicken breast.

 

“No, I’m good,” Damien replied. “Maybe instead of a calendar we should do a cookbook. I didn’t know you had an inner Julia Child. All you need is an apron,” he smirked.

 

“Just for that you’re getting bread and water tomorrow,” Michael replied as he gathered up their plates and took them inside to the kitchen sink. He heard Damien chuckling behind him.

 

But it was a sober Damien he came back outside to, who snagged his hand as he went to go sit back down in his chair.

 

“Take a walk with me?” he asked quietly.

 

“You sure you’re up to it?” Michael replied. “You don’t need to push yourself.”

 

Damien nodded. “A short one.”

 

They made their way down to the water line where the sand was firmer and the ocean lapped at their bare feet. They walked in silence for awhile, both of them looking out toward the horizon as the sun started making its slow descent, the sky just starting to turn pink and orange. Despite the peacefulness, Michael couldn’t help but think Damien had something on his mind besides taking a stroll and he felt a flutter of nervousness in his stomach. And it only grew when Damien tugged on his wrist and brought them to a stop, a serious expression on his face. Though Damien had made a marked physical improvement throughout the afternoon and evening, Michael could see there were still shadows in his eyes, that he wasn’t quite whole yet. And that pulled at Michael’s heart, wondering if Damien’s eyes would ever be clear again, or if this mission had done too much psychological damage to ever repair.

 

Damien took Michael’s hand. “There’s something I want you to know,” he began and Michael felt his stomach drop.

 

“I had the hospital run a rapid HIV test on me.”

 

And Michael forgot how to breathe.

 

Was this why Damien hadn’t initiated any intimacy between them, even a simple kiss? And Michael berated himself, ashamed, for not even considering the fear that would be utmost in Damien’s mind, after what he had been through.

 

Michael swallowed past the dryness and constriction in his throat. No matter Damien’s answer to his next question, Michael knew that it would change nothing in what he felt for Damien or their relationship. And there was no way in hell he would let Damien push him away.

 

“Even though he used a condom, nothing’s one hundred percent,” Damien continued. “I needed to know.”

 

Michael nodded. “What were the results?” he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

 

Damien squeezed his hand. “Negative. I’m clean, Mike.”

 

Michael thought his legs were going to give out and he pulled Damien to him in a bone-crushing embrace. “Christ…Damien,” he breathed, voice breaking in relief as Damien’s arms wrapped around him, holding on just as tight. “It wouldn’t have mattered. I need you to know that.”

 

Michael felt Damien place a soft kiss on his neck and he closed his eyes.

 

“I never doubted that,” Damien whispered, and loosened the embrace enough so that he could look at Michael. “And I need you to know that thinking of you, us, is the only thing that got me through each time…with him.”

 

“What did you think about?” Michael asked quietly, curious.

 

“Munich,” Damien began, his fingers flexing on Michael’s back. And Michael felt arousal begin to curl low in his belly at the memories that flooded through his mind. The first time they’d kissed, touched, made love. He drew in an unsteady breath and a knowing smile touched Damien’s face.

 

“Yeah,” Damien nodded, his hand trailing up Michael’s back now, raising goosebumps even through his t-shirt.

 

“Hungary,” Damien said next, a glint in his eye.

 

Michael’s hand slipped down to the swell of Damien’s ass at the memory of the hottest blowjob he’d ever given his partner. Damien nodded and pulled Michael a little tighter against him. Michael drew in another breath at the feel of Damien’s heat, pooled in his groin.

 

Damien’s next words were a low rumble that Michael felt in his chest.

 

“And how I like to wake you in the morning…”

 

Michael felt his face flush and his cock start to stir, as if Damien’s mouth was on him right then. He felt Damien pull in a breath as he closed his eyes and tipped his head forward. Michael did the same, and as he rested their foreheads together he felt that spark returning between them, giving him hope it would grow into the flame it once was.


	13. CHAPTER THIRTEEN

## CHAPTER THIRTEEN

 

 

In the early hours of the morning, Michael felt Damien shift behind him, pulling him slowly from sleep. Not quite fully awake yet, he kept his eyes closed, feeling more relaxed and content than he had in over a week. He and Damien had fallen asleep last night tangled together naked, and now Damien was spooned up behind him, his body molded to Michael’s, a warm weight against his back, his arm across Michael’s waist. Michael sighed and smiled, grateful for this closeness he had been missing so dearly.

 

Damien shifted again, his fingers flexing on Michael’s stomach and then Michael felt a soft kiss on the side of his neck, just below his ear. He shivered at the sensation, at the first sign of intimacy between them in so long. Damien kissed his neck again and trailed his hand slowly up Michael’s chest. Michael’s heart skipped a beat and his breath stuttered.

 

“Damien…” he murmured, finally opening his eyes.

 

Damien’s voice was a low rumble in his ear. “C’mere…”

 

Michael rolled over and blinked at the man he saw before him.

 

Damien was back. He could see it written all over his face. No longer a shell of his former self. The heavy weight he had been carrying was gone, the battle had been won. The soldier, his partner, the strongest man he’d ever known, had returned.

 

Michael felt his throat close up as Damien smiled gently at him. He brushed a thumb across Damien’s cheek. “I’ve missed you.”

 

“And I missed this…” Damien whispered as he closed the distance between them and pressed his lips gently against Michael’s.

 

They hadn’t kissed since that day on the sidewalk, and that first taste of Damien after so long was like a bolt of electricity surging through Michael’s body, straight down to his groin. He groaned deep and slanted his mouth across Damien’s as his partner did the same. The kiss was hungry and hard and filled with a sense of urgency to reconnect. To finally release all of their fears and worries. Their tongues did battle as their hands pulled each other even closer, gripping hard.

 

The kiss went on, both men unable to get their fill of one another, their mouths parting only to come back together over and over. Michael’s heart pounded in his chest and he was lightheaded – and he never wanted the feeling to stop, because Damien was creating it. Because he came close to losing this forever.

 

Eventually, the overwhelming hunger burned itself out and the kiss slowed, and gentled, more chaste now, but Michael and Damien were still unwilling to let it end for long minutes more. When they finally eased back, Damien’s blue eyes were filled with a desperate need that tore at Michael. Before he could ask Damien what was wrong, Damien took Michael’s hand and pulled it down between their bodies, where he cupped it around Damien’s cock.

 

Michael hesitated and shook his head. “Damien, it’s okay. We don’t have to rush this, not until you’re ready. I can wait. As long as it takes. I’m not going anywhere,” he said quietly, reassuringly.

 

Damien swallowed, his voice rough. “He was the last one to…I still feel him on me, _in_ me. Get rid of him, Mike. _Please_.”

 

The pain and desperation in Damien’s voice hit Michael like a punch to the gut. Along with burning anger at what Seng had done to his partner. He felt his own eyes well up with unshed tears.

 

“I will, I swear,” he vowed fiercely, then kissed Damien with as much passion as his vow.

 

Damien responded instantly, this kiss just as hungry as the first but now tinged with desire and arousal. Michael pulled back after a long minute and rolled Damien onto his back, looking down at his flushed face and bright eyes, listening to his panting breaths, knowing that he was a mirror image.

 

Michael straddled his partner’s waist then dipped his head and started at Damien’s neck, determined to cleanse every inch of Damien’s body of another’s touch with his mouth and hands. He felt Damien shiver as he kissed and licked his way down the long column of his neck, then groan sharply as Michael gently bit where shoulder meets neck, then kissed away the sting. He moved across Damien’s collarbone, his tongue dipping into the hollow of Damien’s throat, tasting the salt of Damien’s skin. He felt Damien’s arms come around him, his hands running up and down his back as Michael continued his exploration of Damien’s body.

 

He moved to Damien’s left shoulder next, his fingers drifting over the tattoo on his upper arm, followed by his mouth. He returned to Damien’s chest, kissing across his pecs as his hands skimmed up and down Damien’s sides. His partner closed his eyes and arched his head back when Michael’s tongue brushed across one of his nipples. Damien’s hands tightened on Michael’s hips, groaning in pleasure as Michael continued his ministrations on one of his partner’s most sensitive areas. He sucked on the nipple, drawing it into hardness before tugging gently on it with his teeth.

 

“Fuck…” Damien gasped, one of his hands coming up to cup the back of Michael’s head, encouraging him to continue, wanting more.

 

Michael gladly obliged, continuing to lave one nipple with his tongue while his fingers traced across Damien’s chest, through the soft dark hair, to its twin, which he rolled and tugged until Damien shuddered from the stimulation.

 

Michael shifted then, moving down Damien’s body, feeling Damien’s cock lengthening and hardening where it rested against his own. He moved his hips and rubbed their growing erections together.

 

Damien sucked in a sharp breath at the sensation. “Yeah…feels good…” he panted.

 

Michael rolled his hips once more, dragging a hiss of pleasure from his partner before bending down again. He kissed his way across and down Damien’s firm abs, lingering over the long, intricate tattoo on his right side, his fingers tracing over the fine lines.

 

He continued his downward quest, his lips following the thin trail of dark hair below Damien’s navel until his chin bumped against the head of Damien’s now fully erect cock. Much to his partner’s frustration, Michael sat up and moved off of Damien’s body, bending Damien’s knees and putting his feet on the mattress. Michael moved between Damien’s spread legs then and first kissed his way down his left leg, from his knee to his upper thigh, then again on his right leg. Only this time he went further, seeking out the center of Damien’s heat and arousal. He inhaled deeply of Damien’s musky scent and felt his cock throb in anticipation of being buried inside that heat.

 

“Mike…”

 

Damien’s voice was high and tight, that one word full of need and want and desire. And Michael was heady with the knowledge that he was creating those feelings inside Damien, chasing away the memory of Kenji Seng bit by bit, kiss by kiss, touch by touch.

 

Michael cupped Damien’s heavy balls, so warm in his palm, and rolled them gently in their sac.

 

“Shit, yeah…” Damien breathed, his head falling back heavily against the pillow, eyes closing in pleasure, his legs spreading wider.

 

Michael lifted up slightly, still rolling and tugging gently on Damien’s balls, and licked one long swipe up Damien’s cock, from root to tip. Damien’s whole body jerked and he lifted his head.

 

“God, Mike, more…” he pleaded.

 

Michael was more than eager to fulfill the request. Without hesitation he took Damien’s cock into his mouth, as far down his throat as he could go, and contracted his muscles around the thick length, sucking hard.

 

“Fuck!” Damien exploded, one hand falling on Michael’s head, the other on his shoulder, gripping tightly.

 

Michael released Damien’s balls and used his hand to stroke Damien’s shaft as he sucked. Damien was steel wrapped in satin, so warm in his hand, and in his mouth, where Damien’s taste exploded across his tongue with a burst of precome. He hummed appreciatively and Damien groaned with the sensation.

 

Michael continued to bob his head, sucking greedily, his tongue pressing hard against the bundle of nerves on the underside of the head of Damien’s cock, Damien twitching with the stimulation. He could feel Damien’s cock throb gently in his palm, heard the change in Damien’s breathing and knew his partner was racing toward completion. He took Damien further down his throat and cupped his sac again, massaging, rolling, feeling Damien’s balls draw closer to his body in preparation for orgasm. Michael’s cock throbbed just thinking about having Damien’s most intimate taste flood his mouth.

 

Damien moved restlessly beneath him, eyes squeezed closed, hips giving short, upward jerks, his hands flexing against Michael’s head and shoulder. Michael hummed again around Damien’s cock and his partner gasped and opened his eyes.

 

“God, Mike, stop,” he panted, pushing against Michael’s shoulder. “Not yet…too soon…nnngh…want it to last…want you in me…” he rambled, trying to pull Mike up to him.

 

Michael felt a surge of arousal flood through him at Damien’s words and he let Damien’s cock slip from his mouth to surge up his partner’s body. He claimed Damien’s mouth for a hard kiss, rocking his hips to rub their erections together. Damien responded in kind, slanting his mouth across Michael’s and pushing his hips up, reaching down to grip Michael’s ass as they rutted against one another.

 

Damien was the one to finally break the kiss. Michael could feel his heart pounding in his chest against his own, Damien’s eyes dark with desire as they looked up at him.

 

“Now, Mike,” he ground out. “I need you so fucking bad…”

 

“God, yeah,” Michael breathed, giving Damien one more swift kiss before levering himself up off his partner’s body.

 

It suddenly hit him then that they had no lube. He hadn’t expected Richmond and Martinez to pack _that_. Michael had a moment of panic before remembering the pump bottle of hand cream on the bathroom counter. He was off the bed and to the bathroom and back, cream in hand, in the blink of an eye.

 

Damien had bent his knees and spread his legs again and Michael settled himself between them, coating the fingers of his right hand and his cock. He made eye contact with Damien, who nodded, assuring Michael he was ready and truly did want this. Confident now they weren’t pushing Damien too quickly, Michael reached between Damien’s legs and sought out his most intimate place. He rubbed his finger several times against the small puckered muscle before slowly and carefully sliding it inside.

 

Damien moaned and pushed his head back against the pillow as Michael’s finger slipped further inside him. Michael was cautious in his stretching, taking more time than normal, knowing that Seng had been rough with Damien and he refused to cause his partner more pain. Only when Damien began gripping at the sheets and pushing down against Michael’s three fingers did he feel comfortable enough to continue. Damien made a sound of protest as Michael’s fingers slipped from his body, to change to one of pleasure as Michael’s cock replaced them.

 

Twin groans of pleasure echoed in the room as Michael pushed slowly and steadily inside Damien’s body until he could go no further. Michael had to pause then to catch his breath, feeling himself surrounded by Damien’s tight heat, his arousal spiking. He could see Damien was right there with him – on edge, needing to take a moment or otherwise this would be over much too soon.

 

Michael bent over then, bracing his hands on either side of Damien and dipped his head down to capture his partner’s mouth for another kiss. Damien fell into it, his tongue sliding sensuously against Michael’s, his hands coming up to rest on Michael’s sides, fingers flexing.

 

Michael began moving then, shifting his hips backward, his cock sliding nearly all the way out of Damien’s body before pushing back in. They eased back from the kiss then and Damien’s legs rose up to wrap around Michael’s waist, tipping his hips up for deeper penetration. Damien held onto Michael’s upper arms as he started a steady rhythm of long, deep thrusts.

 

Michael lost himself in Damien’s eyes as they made love, remembering once again how close he came to losing this man forever and he swallowed past the sudden tightening in his throat.

 

He watched as Damien squeezed his eyes shut in pleasure, only to open them again with a gasp as Michael found that spot deep inside him.

 

“Christ, Mike…” Damien panted hoarsely. “Don’t fucking stop…”

 

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Michael winked and Damien huffed out a laugh beneath him.

 

_Beneath him…_

 

And suddenly this all felt wrong.

 

Damien had spent too much time being submissive. And even though he asked Michael to do this, to be inside him, it felt to Michael that he was still in that same role, that same mindset. It was time Damien started taking back some control. To be on top.

 

In a move that would impress a pro-wrestler, Michael rolled them over, reversing their positions. Damien blinked as he suddenly found himself on top, looking slightly confused. Michael saw it hit him a second later, why Michael had done this and Damien leaned over and kissed him hard. When he straightened back up there was a cocky smirk on his face and Michael knew he’d done the right thing.

 

“Ride me, solider,” Michael growled and he saw Damien’s eyes darken with arousal.

 

“Fucking copy that,” Damien breathed, leaning forward and wrapping his hands around the headboard.

 

Then he levered himself up with his knees, letting Michael’s cock slide out until the head caught on the ridge of muscle before sinking back down in one fluid move.

 

Michael nodded. “Yeah…fuck…just like that…” he ground out, holding on to Damien’s hips.

 

His partner rode him hard and fast, breath coming in short pants as he drove himself toward completion. Michael could see the pleasure written on Damien’s face, but there was also determination there, to push the memory of Kenji Seng out of his body for good.

 

Michael bent his legs slightly, pressing his heels into the mattress. Damien’s skin was hot beneath his palms, covered in a fine sheen of sweat. He tightened his grip on Damien’s hips and started thrusting upwards in counterpoint as Damien sank down on his cock.

 

“Oh fuck!” Damien cried out sharply at Michael’s action and the change in the angle of penetration. “Right fucking there…” He screwed his eyes shut and hung his head and Michael knew he’d found that spot.

 

Michael continued to give short upward thrusts as he watched his partner start to fall apart above him. Damien had opened his eyes again and Michael locked gazes with him, wanting to watch the myriad of emotions cross his face as Damien came undone.

 

And it happened just a few moments later, Damien’s rhythm faltering. One of his hands dropped down from the headboard to clutch at Michael’s shoulder.

 

“Mike, I…” He groaned deeply. “I’m gonna…”

 

“God yeah, do it…” Michael encouraged him, a sharp spike of arousal surging through him, wanting nothing more than to watch his partner come.

 

The second Damien let go, Michael was right there with him, his orgasm surging through his body so quickly it nearly took his breath away.

 

Damien threw his head back with a shout as he climaxed, his cock pulsing over and over, his release splashing on Michael’s chest. Michael gave two more sharp thrusts as he felt Damien’s body tighten around him and then he was coming with his own shout of completion. He felt his cock pulse again and again, deep inside Damien, filling him with hot, wet heat.

 

“Oh fuck, Mike,” Damien gasped, bending over and capturing Michael’s mouth, kissing him hard through his orgasm.

 

Michael’s legs dropped back down to the bed and he wound his arms around Damien, pulling him down flush against him, holding on tightly as they shook, hearts pounding.

 

It was long moments later before their breathing calmed and the kiss turned soft and languid. Michael rolled them on their sides, regretfully slipping from Damien’s body. His partner made a soft sound of loss into the kiss and eased back from it a minute later. Damien gave a heavy, relaxed sigh and blinked slowly at Michael, who smiled gently back. They lay quietly, limbs tangled together, fingers running idly over smooth skin, not quite willing to break their renewed connection yet.

 

Eventually, Damien rolled away to reach down and snag his t-shirt from the floor where he’d dropped it the previous evening. He cleaned off both their chests then tossed it back to the floor. He lay back down facing Michael and threaded their fingers together.

 

“Is he gone now?” Michael asked quietly.

 

Damien nodded. “Thanks to you,” he smiled softly.

 

It was at that moment Michael realized he’d been wrong earlier. Damien was healthy again, but he was still broken. It was evident in the way his smile didn’t reach his eyes, at the one lingering shadow he still saw there in their blue depths. There was a piece of Damien still missing. And with sudden clarity, Michael realized that he himself was that missing piece. He felt his chest tighten with the knowledge that he held the key to healing Damien. And he knew what he had to do. If Damien was strong enough to face his battle head on and win, Michael could be strong enough to face his deepest fear.

 

He unlaced their fingers and removed the paracord bracelet from his arm and refastened it on its owner’s wrist. Back safe and sound where it belonged, proof of Damien’s strength and perseverance.

 

Damien touched the bracelet and took a deep breath and Michael could see him drawing in that strength. Damien turned back to Michael and his kiss was filled with unspoken thanks.

 

When they moved apart Michael laid a hand on the side of Damien’s face, rubbed his thumb over his cheekbone. His heart pounded so fast he thought it would burst from his chest. He swallowed hard past the constriction in his throat that tried once again to prevent him from saying the words. But this time he would not let his fear win. For Damien.

 

“I love you.”

 

Michael’s words hung there in the morning sunshine for a long moment before they settled fully on Damien. And when they did, Michael watched his eyes grow bright with tears, saw how deeply Michael’s declaration had affected him. Saw the shadow disappear from those blue eyes and the missing piece fall into place.

 

And then in the next breath, Damien swallowed and blinked and schooled his face into a smug smirk, and gave Michael a smartass wink.

 

“How could you not?”

 

Michael’s laugh was loud and bright. “You wank –“ he began, the rest of his words lost to a kiss filled with more love and hope and promise than words could ever express.

 

And with that kiss, Damien Scott was made whole again. And Michael Stonebridge felt complete for the first time in his life.

 

Both of them now stronger than ever. Together.

 

**THE END**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I originally wrote this story as Strike Back fanfic. But when I was done I realized that with some rewriting this would actually make a great original fiction story. So that's exactly what I did and published it several months ago. Then I decided since I put so much work into it as fanfic to begin with, I wanted to share the original version with all of you. I hope you enjoyed it!


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